


Moontime's hour

by Cattuesmountain



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Married Life, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-06-24 00:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19712212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: Henry, searching in vain for some quiet and peace in his own chambers, finds both in a rather unexpected place.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:"Reign" or the characters used in it are not mine, sad but true :-( Violations of any rights are not intended. I just took them out for some fun and will return them unscathed.  
Pairing: Catherine/Henry – Cathry  
Rating: M  
Catergory: Romance, Drama  
Remarks: like all my other fanfictions, this story has been written in my native language and I've translated it.

Moontime's hour

Chapter 1

Pale moonlight shimmered through the gap between the dark brocade curtains of the King's chambers and cast a broad streak of light on the bed and the couple lying in it. Henry, who had turned his back to his young and annoying lover, stared with an empty gaze into the semi-darkness and was dwelling on his thoughts. Thoughts that refused to let him come to rest.  
In addition, the persistent heat that had laid itself over his country like a heavy and stifling veil, was aggravating his sullen mood even more.

"I think I'll let them replace the curtains and the upholstery as well. They should match the new tiles."  
Kenna's words induced him to pull the sheet over his head in spite of the high temperatures.  
A suppressed sound of despair escaped his lips. Henry silently asked for forgiveness for the violent thoughts his mistress evoke with her deliberations.

"Henry?" The slender hand that was searching for him under the sheets collided with his neck, prompting the King of France to cast back the thin blanket in indignation and he straightened up.  
"Kenna, don't you think it's enough that my chambers are occupied during the day by tile layers, tailors, you and your giggling girlfriends that I can't even think straight because of all the construction noise? Do you still have to pester me at night with this nonsense?"

The King of France couldn't hide his anger. Since making admittedly promiscuous admissions to Mary's Lady in waiting and his new mistress, he felt like a stranger in his own bedchambers. He cursed himself and his thoughtless yielding in this matter and wondered meanwhile whether the little fun between the sheets was worth all this trouble.

When was Kenna finally going to understand that her jealousy and her constant whining was gradually jangling his nerves?  
All he ever wanted was an uncomplicated plaything who would hold him in her loving arms at night, making him forget the burden of responsibility for an entire country he was carrying on his shoulders. Carnal pleasures without constant whining and complaining.

Why couldn't Kenna understand that? Who did she think she was dealing with?

A simple-minded fool who would defer to the whims of an immature young woman? Had she forgotten that he was none other than Henry Valois, King of France?  
He wanted their relationship to be simple and easy, not exhausting and frustrating.  
Was this too much to ask for?

"But it's important to me and certainly no nonsense," Kenna lamented almost sulky, tearing at the thin thread of patience that was keeping Henry's temper in line. Furiously the king swung his legs out of his bed and rose, his face wearing a twisted mask of anger.  
"I don't care and I don't want to hear another word about it tonight," he roared.  
Without giving Kenna a chance for another reply, Henry grabbed his robe and left his bedchamber without further explanation.

After slamming the door shut unmistakably loud, he stopped his bewildered guards from following him with a single wave of his hand and turned into the adjacent corridor that was deserted at this time of night.  
Henry just stood there for a moment, closed his eyes and enjoyed the blissful silence that surrounded him.

The cold floor felt wonderful under his bare feet. The last few weeks had been unnaturally and unbearably hot. During the days the thick air just didn't move at all and even the massive walls of the castle had heated up meanwhile.  
Only very late in the evening a mild breeze here and there brought some cooling. Like this night.

Henry followed the light draught and found himself at a less frequented balcony door hidden behind a niche and difficult to access.  
The king stepped outside and looked up at the full moon that illuminated the night quite impressively with it's silver glow.

His eyes automatically searched the sky for the polar star. A fixed appearance on the firmament that shone brighter than any other star.  
Once Catherine had shown him this particular star and told him about the myth of its creation. Afterwards they had made love under the sky in a similarly hot night. Under them the soft grass and above them an endless sea of stars.  
At that time his young and beautiful wife had been his very own and personal fixed star.

Henry shook his head in order to dispel his ghosts of the past.  
That night was half an eternity away. They had been young and incredibly naive. Drunk on their burning love and unaware of the heavy burden of responsibility for an entire kingdom that has now been resting on his shoulders for so long.  
Not to forget the necessity to bear an heir. A duty whose accomplishment had finally driven them apart.

But it was idle to chase the cloudy shadows of his past.  
These carefree, newly married young people no longer existed.

Completely self-forgotten, Henry strolled on, following the bend and rounded the terrace to the rear wing of the castle. Was he mistaken, or did this path lead to Catherine's private chambers?  
He gave in to his curiosity and moved on until he spotted another open balcony door. Henry carefully peered into the room that was only slightly illuminated by moonshine.

He recognized the tasteful furnishing of his wife's bedchamber and his attention inevitably wandered to the large king-sized bed.  
Catherine had curled up on the left side on the mattress and seemed to be soundly asleep. Thanks to the heat his wife had only wrapped a small corner of her sheet around her hip, leaving her slim legs bare under her rucked up nightgown.

To Henry's secret enjoyment Catherine wore her hair loose. Soft curls framed her freckled face like a golden halo. A sight that fascinated and delighted him all the same.  
With bated breath Henry got two steps closer and after a short hesitation he entered her bedchamber, his eyes eagerly glided over her petite, motionless form.

It amazed him how small and delicate Catherine looked while lying in her bed. Normally his wife seemed larger than life itself and despite her small body height she instantly captured every room as soon as she entered it with her aristocratic presence and her dominant demeanor.  
But right now, there was no sign of this particular dominance. She rather looked fragile and as tame and peaceful as he hadn't experience her in a long time.

Henry resisted the urge to touch her and was content with silently absorbing her appearance.  
Against better judgment he walked towards her bed. His fingers twitched with the burning desire to touch her.

The king of France got down on his knees next to the headboard of his wife's bed and extensively looked at her relaxed facial features. It amazed him, how wonderfully beautiful Catherine looked when she didn't glower at him or tried to kill him with her glare for a change. He had completely forgotten that not only his mistresses but also his capricious wife was a marvel of beauty.

The longer he stared at Catherine, the more his self-control threatened to fail him. So he finally gave in to his irrepressible urges and tenderly traced the contour of her cheek with his index finger. After this audacity he held his breath in anticipation and internally braced himself against the thunderstorm, that threatened to break loose any moment now.  
But to his astonishment nothing happened at all.

Encouraged by his own foolhardiness and with the courage of the fearless, Henry repeated this action, feeling the soft texture of her skin under his fingertip.

She probably had made use of some sleep-inducing drugs, otherwise his touch surely would have awakened her. Seizing the moment, Henry sat down on the edge of the mattress and gently brushed Catherine's hair out of her face. He loved her hair. He had always loved it. From the moment he first met her, shyly looking up at him from out under long eyelashes and nervously stroking back her long, strawberry blonde curls.

So Henry bent down to her and the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms reached his nostrils, prompting him to close his eyes with delight.

There had been times when he hadn't been able to fall asleep without her at his side.  
Times when her unmistakable odour had intoxicated all his senses at once.  
Bygone times where they had still been happy.  
Happy and in love.

And suddenly he longed for just lying down next to her, being able to continue absorbing her heavenly fragrance in order to finally find some much needed rest and peace. Because he couldn't find rest and peace in his own chambers right now.  
Henry caught himself letting his gaze wander to the vacant side of her bed.  
And he asked himself: Why not?

Catherine's sleep was as deep and sound as possible and she would certainly not wake up by his presence in her bed as long as he kept enough distance between them and stole away at dawn. She wouldn't even have to notice his nightly visit.

He struggled against reason for a few seconds before he silently climbed over his sleeping wife and made himself comfortable in her bed.  
Her sweet scent enveloped him immediately and it didn't take long before the king of France found his long-awaited sleep in his wife's bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Comforting warmth enveloped Catherine de Medici when she slowly drifted back from her dream into reality in the wee hours of the morning. Strong, protective arms held her tightly in a loving embrace and the Queen of France lost herself in the feeling of finding refuge in them.

And while awakening slowly cleared the fog of unconsciousness, causing her mind to return to the here and now, she drowsily buried her nose in the crook of the throat that belonged to the arms holding her and absorbed the deep, masculine scent surrounding her.

For a few minutes she stayed in that position and enjoyed not being damned to waking up alone in her lonley bed for a chance.

Until she realized that if she wasn't alone, she must have shared her bed with a stranger. Shocked by this thought, the Queen raised with a start while the arms tried to pull her back into her previous position.  
Catherine's eyes - full of suspicion and misgiving - wandered to the face of the man who had somehow happened to end up in her bed.

"Oh my God, Henry..." she mumbled with relief once she recognized that is was her husband who she was sharing her bed with and sank back into his arms.  
It was probably due to her sleeplessness that she hadn't immediately recognized his well-known odour.

A smell that was so unique and special to her.  
A smell with the power to bring her to her knees with frantic desire.  
A smell she had only seldomly relished as of late.

"Henry!" Catherine exclaimed all of a sudden once she realized that her husband had apparently visited her chambers in the middle of the night for no apparent reason.

Her shriek tore the King of France out of his sleep. Alarmed, he bolted up while Catherine - out of an impulse - pushed him away. With a loud noise Henry crashed on the floor and rubbed his aching elbow in puzzlement.

"What on earth is the matter with you?" he mumbled angrily. Outraged by his very presence, his wife pulled the blanket to her chest and stared down at her intruder of a husband.  
"You of all peope have to ask me that?" she hissed back in indignation. "What are you doing in my bed?"

Instead of answering her question, her husband picked himself up and sat down next to her on the edge of the mattress with an implicitness that was second to none.  
"Isn't that obvious, Catherine? I've slept here. Well, at least until your anything but gentle wake-up call."  
His answer prompted her to roll with her eyes impatiently.  
"That I've seen, Henry. I'm more interested in the "why"."  
"Because here, unlike in my own chambers, I could at least find some rest."

Catherine rose with a meaningful "Aha" on her lips and slipped into her dressing gown. Her escape from her bed prompted Henry to drop down onto the mattress and look at her with a mischievous grin.  
"What's wrong with your chambers?", she wanted to know and had to admonish herself to stay calm.  
"It's dirty and unbearably loud there and I can't even come to rest at night."

Annoyed by his whining, Catherine slowly walked over to her dressing chair and gave her husband a devastating stare through the mirror.  
"Then kick Kenna out or stay with Diane for Christsake!" She hissed and started with her morning hygiene.  
"That's not possible. Besides, I like your chambers."  
"But I don't like your presence in my chambers!" She couldn't express her displeasure more clearly, but Henry just laughed out loud in amusement.  
"Don't be so nasty, Catherine," he rebuked her, "I just need a place to sleep for the next couple of days or weeks. God only knows what else Kenna will come up with in order to remodel my chambers to her liking."

At these words Catherine dropped the cloth she had started to clean her face with and angrily turned to her unwanted overnight guest.

"Weeks? This is absolutely out of question!"  
The hardness of her words did not leave any room for discussion, yet Henry replied no less fevered:  
"Catherine, it's quite simple actually. I temporarily need a place to stay for the night and you have this enormous bed that is far too big for one person alone. Besides, we are married. So there's no reason why I shouldn't spend the coming nights here."  
"There is no reason against it? Henry, I am against it," she yelled at him.

During their verbal outbreak Henry's facial expression hardened.  
"That's unfortunate, but it doesn't change my decision." As if the matter was finally closed, Henry buried his face under her blanket.

"We have hundreds of rooms in this castle. I'm sure we can find some suitable chambers for you for the time being." Catherine refused to give up and began to brush her hair absorbed in thoughts.  
"Don't bother. Your bedchamber is perfectly fine for me," came a muted response from under her blanket. She jumped up and yelled angrily:  
"But it's not fine for me!"  
"You're free to move into one of those hundreds of rooms, darling."

Henry had the nerve to provocatively look at her by lifting the hem of the sheets.  
"Oh no, I certainly won't let YOU drive me out of MY chambers," she protested angrily. "Tell me, what does Kenna think about you planning to spend the next few nights in your wife's bed?" Catherine tried a different tactic to demonstrate how stupid his plan was.  
And in fact her husband tossed back the blanket and sat up in her bed to look at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Kenna knows that our marriage is nothing more than platonic."  
Upon hearing this, Catherine threw her hair back and rose, feeling badly hurt by his insensitive words.  
She was more than aware of the fact that their marriage was shattered and most likely destroyed beyond repair. Still, it hurt when Henry not only said it out loud, but he obviously had shared this information with his young mistress.  
And it hurt because he was speaking the truth.

Henry hadn't lain with her for ages. Not since she had given him more than enough heirs and sex was no longer a necessity for them.  
He had satisfied his carnals desires with other women for years anyway. Women like Diane or his most recent conquest, Lady Kenna. This Scottish little whore, who was still only a child. Actually not much older than his own children.

"Well, look at the bright side of this. Weren't you always complaining that I've paid far too little attention to you? For the next nights I'm all yours, my dear wife."  
Henry slowly approached her and raised his hand in order to caress her cheek.  
"Don't you dare touch me," she spat furiously and slapped his hand away. "This realization comes decades too late. So save your breath," she hissed at him irreconcilably.

The knock that announced her maids kept them from exchanging more words of anger. Without paying further attention to Henry, the Queen called in her servants and went behind the changing screen to ready herself for the day.

When Catherine stepped out in an elegant, ruby coloured robe, Henry had providentially left her chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

With swinging skirts and surrounded by an armada of personal servants and her ladies in waiting, Catherine de Medici entered the throne room.

As often, Henry was already present in the great hall, never feeling the need to arrive with his wife as a sign of their union. He was framed by Mary's ladies, who were foolishly giggling at his comments. First and foremost Lady Kenna, who either smiled coquettishly at him or threw back her long and shiny dark hair whenever the King of France looked at her.

At this display of female submission, the Queen rolled with her eyes and gracefully strode to her throne with her head held high.  
Once there she sat down, not willing to wait for Henry to join her.  
Then all of a sudden Catherine felt his gaze rest on her with interest. But she chose to punished her husband with ignorance and looked the other way.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henry unglue himself from the young women and slowly walk towards her.

Lady Kenna, whose tactfulness and perceptivity always left a lot to be desired, did not realize that the interest of her king was now directed at affairs of state and noblemen to be received in audience.  
Yet the ignorant girl hurried after him like a mare in heat. Catherine wouldn't have been surprised at seeing the little harlot flare her nostrils or neigh after Henry.

"Henry, you still haven't told me where you've spent the night! I'm trying my best to convert your chambers into a nice and cosy oasis of well-being and you downright ignore my efforts!"  
Even though Kenna spoke quietly, Catherine was able to understood every single word from her position. The desire to roll her eyes once again was nearly overwhelming, but the Queen of France kept her eyes pointed straight ahead in order to keep her composure.

"Kenna, would you please stop whining? I do not owe you any explanation."  
The slight vibration of his vocal chords revealed that Henry was about to lose his patience. A warning signal that his annoying lover obviously didn't hear or simply ignored.

"You promised you wouldn't go visit Diane's chambers ever again," Kenna kept on whining and tugged at the thin thread that kept Henry's temper in check and would provoke a massive blowup once torn.  
"Kenna! Enough! Keep your insecurities to yourself," Henry rumbled in annoyance.  
"Please, I need to know," came Kennas tear-choked answer, prompting Henry to sigh theatrically.  
"I wasn't with Diane, I stayed the night in Catherine's chambers," he finally admitted.

"You stayed with your wife?" His mistresses voice had increased in volume. Catherine could no longer keep her facial expression neutral and a small yet triumphant smile appeared on her lips.  
"Yes, with my wife, who - as you know - I no longer entertain an intimate relationship with."  
Henry's words made the smile on his wife's face first freeze and then disappear as fast as it had appeared.

She wondered how her husband managed to ridicule her time and again in front of the entire French court. Either by his actions or carelessly vocalised remarks of this kind that had the power to cut her deeper than the sharpest blade.

As in the past, Henry showed no sign of guilty conscience. She assumed that he didn't even realize how hurtful his words usually were.  
But why should he care anyway?

After all, he was the King of France and his ego was bigger than life. Sometimes Catherine wondered how he even fit through the door. He simply had no time nor the muse to care for other people's feelings and their sensitivities.

"I know, but..."  
"Enough! I will hear no more of this, Kenna."  
With one last imperious gesture, Henry silenced his annoying lover's tongue.  
Kenna, who had already opened her mouth in protest, closed it again with a frown. She quite obviously took offence by his brusque rebuff and threw a dirty and accusing glare at Catherine. Any other time, the Queen of France would surely have laughed at this display of childish behaviour.

But she couldn't forget the humiliation she had been subjected to and therefore was unable to feign the tiniest smile of triumph.

Meanwhile Henry sat down on his throne next to Catherine and looked at her questioningly.  
"For heaven's sake, save your empty words for your mistresses, Henry," she spit out angrily before he even had the chance to address her.  
"I see, your mood has not improved since this morning," her husband remarked rather unimpressed.  
"Neither your taste in women," Catherine shot back sharp-tongued and tilted her chin stubbornly.

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your words, dear wife?"  
"Henry darling, you're confusing anger with jealousy. What reason would I have to be jealous in the first place?" Catherine deliberately took a short pause before continuing. "Since you're going to spend your next nights in my bed." Her voice dripped with irony while giving her husband a sickly sweet smile.  
She hoped that her answer would not only white out his stupid grin, but also white out this absurd idea in general.  
"Enough of this nonsense, Catherine." It was just like him to bury the defeat of their verbal exchange under the cloak of his authority.

"Let's begin with our audience. Lord Renault, step forward." Henry shouted loudly and turned his attention to a stocky bald man who bowed at them and spoke up his case while panting heavily.

Catherine leaned back against the back rest of her throne and put on her official smile, nodding encouragingly to their subject.  
She chose to ignore Lady Kenna's hostile, almost burning gaze she was throwing her way just the same as her husband's very existence for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

After the audience and a subsequent meeting with his privy council, Henry retreated to his study in order to contrive a new draft decree he couldn't afford to delay any longer.  
After finishing his work, the King of France helped himself to a goblet of wine and enjoyed the peace and quiet he lately wasn't able to find anywhere else it seemed. In addition, this terrible heat continued to afflict him.

A sharp knock at his door pulled Henry out of his thoughts.  
"What is it?" he hissed in annoyance when one of his guards entered with a tormented expression on his otherwise so stoic face.  
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but Lady Kenna sent me. She asks you to return to your chambers as soon as possible, since she wants to show you something of uttermost importance – these are her words."

Henry could see how uncomfortable the man was feeling about being used as some kind of private errand boy by young Kenna. The words sounded memorized and Henry wondered how his mistress had persuaded the stout man to surrender to her will.

He couldn't even blame him for his unwillingness and was surprised at the young woman's audacity. For he had forbidden her to ever set foot in this area of the castle and yet he couldn't escape Kenna's suffocating love even here. Maybe he should have been more clear. Or he should have forbidden her bothering him at all as long as he was busy with state affairs.

"Tell her..." Henry hesitated for a moment, then he shook his head. "No, you won't tell her anything. Arrange my night things and fresh clothes to be brought to my wife's chamber. That will be all," he decided, unwilling to tolerate his young lover's whims.

His guard nodded in devotion, even though he was apparently anything but happy with Henry's order. But his King couldn't and wouldn't take his or Kenna's sensitivities into consideration.

He hadn't planned to retire this early, but the prospect of finally finding some rest in Catherine's chambers was too tempting. Kenna would not dare disturbing him there. She was way too afraid of Catherine and her possible reaction. And the latter would hopefully not retire to her bedchamber until later this evening.

So Henry took a detour to the royal wing as not to risk running into Kenna of all people.  
To his relief he found Catherine's rooms empty and orphaned. Satisfied with his decision, the King took off his boots and collapsed into a comfortable armchair in the seating area.  
"Oh this wonderful silence," he muttered self-forgotten and closed his eyes.

But this peace didn't last long.  
Catherine, accompanied by two of her ladies in waiting and a servant girl, appeared less than thirty minutes later in her bedchamber. Henry knew by the way the radiant smile on her face died and her posture stiffened that she hadn't missed his unwanted presence and that she was unhappy with his mere existence.  
"Henry, I hoped that you had either come to your senses or been carried off by an incurable disease."  
"Someday your sharp tongue will get you into serious trouble, woman."

The murderous glare his wife gave him thereupon made any further comment unnecessary.  
There were times when Catherine's rebellious and sometimes unpredictable nature seemed like a refreshing dash in his boring everyday life full of cringers and ass-kissers, even though he would never admit it out loud. Her blunt honesty and famous Italian temper were a welcomed change, at least when she wasn't jangling his nerves. Because apart from his bold wife, there was no one in France who had the balls to stand up to their King.

He only wished to know the promise of her razor-sharp mind and sharp tongue rather as an ally than an avowed enemy.

"So the mighty King of France hides behind his wife's skirts from his mistress?" she asked, turning to him with a smug smile on her face and dismissed her ladies and the maid with a wave of her hand. Still smiling, Catherine took a seat at her vanity table.  
With practiced fingers she opened the fastening of her necklace, all the while her eyes were resting on him through the glass of her mirror.  
"Don't worry, my dear husband, I will protect you," she assured him ironically and set about taking off the rest of her jewellery.

Just when she had unraveled her crown from her hair, Henry appeared right behind her. He grabbed her wrist and leaned down to her, so that she could not only see his face in her mirror, but also feel his hot breath on her neck.  
"Don't you push me, Caterina," he growled and deliberately used the Italian pronunciation of her first name.  
Heaven knew, he did not seek quarrel, but his wife's behavior didn't make it easy for him.

The murderous look she threw his way gave no indication as to whether the words themselves, the use of her Italian name or his unyielding grip on her wrist had provoked it.  
Only when she looked away after what seemed like half an eternity - a reaction Henry interpreted as a sign of her subordination - did he release her arm.

But a treacherous twitch of the corner of her mouth revealed that he had only won this little conflict of will because she had allowed him to claim victory.

In order not to let himself get carried away by another kneejerk reactions, Henry brought some distance between them and was content with watching his wife preparing for the night. It had been years since he had last observed Catherine in such an intimate way, and every gesture, no matter how small, brought bittersweet memories to light. Memories long forgotten.

When Catherine finally loosened the numerous clasps from her hair and her strawberry-blonde curls cascaded gently down her shoulders, Henry's heart made an unexpected bounce. It annoyed and fascinated him at the same time that her loose hair was still able to draw him under its spell.

With an indifferent facial expression, his Queen disappeared behind her changing screen. Henry bridged the time by indiscriminately browsing through her books until he got tired of waiting and finally pulled his own shirt over his head in order to change.  
But before he could put on his nightgown, Catherine called out for him.  
"Henry?"

The King of France looked up, but still couldn't see his wife. He briefly considered ignoring her call, but then he decided against it. Out of curiosity he rounded the changing screen, determined to fathom the secrets of female dressing rituals.

Catherine stood there with her back to him, wearing only a corset and a thin, see-through undergarment, casting him an impatient look over her shoulder. He could see that she had already loosened the first rows of the lacing, but was stuck because of a knot she obviously couldn't loosen herself.  
To savour the moment some more, Henry merely raised his brow in silent question.  
"If you're already spoiling my evening, you might as well make yourself useful."

Henry slowly stepped behind her and let his eyes wander from her waist to the gentle curves of her hips, then down her formidable backside. The most delightful sight, he thought.  
One he hadn't enjoyed for quite some time.

"You can boss your servants around, but not your King," he whispered into her ear. It was far from his mind not performing such a delicious task, but he still felt the need to put Catherine in her place for the imperious tone she took with him.

"Well, suit yourself. Mathilde!" his wife shouted in annoyance. But before she could break free, Henry stopped her from leaving and turned her around with gentle force.  
"Rash as ever. A different tone, a polite question or a nice little please might work miracles," he taught her. But Henry quickly recognized that his words fell on deaf ears by her defiantly raised chin.  
"I see, an advice from someone who must know." Catherine's words dripped with irony.

Behind them the door to her chambers opened and a woman's voice inquired about her Majesty's wishes.  
"Leave, I will take care of my wife's needs myself," Henry growled harshly, before Catherine could say anything at all. He didn't even bother to step out behind the folding screen to look at the servant, but merely pointed at the door with his fingers across the divider to let her know that she was dismissed.

"Really? Since when?" Catherine asked him bluntly. Maybe he was wrong, but Henry thought he detected a seductive undertone in her voice.  
"Come here," he ordered and pulled her closer at the tangled lacing, since she didn't move fast enough. The small, startled sound that escaped her lips was music to Henry's ears. "Let me take a look."

He deliberately took his sweet time and calmly disentangled the laces, while Catherine started to wriggle and repeatedly threw him an impatient look over her shoulder.  
Gradually the lacing loosened to such an extent that he was finally able to release his wife from her elaborately crafted corset.

His wife breathed a sigh of relief and Henry was fascinated by the way her damp undergarment was sticking to her body in the most enticing way.  
"Finally", Catherine spit instead of thanking him and snatched the corset from his hands. "That's all, Henry," she added since he made no effort to leave her alone behind her screen. "What are you still waiting for?" she hissed and decisively pointed at the other end of her chambers.  
Had she just dismissed him like a common servant?

He wasn't accustomed to such a behaviour. Especially by women.  
They usually hung off his every word, they worshiped the ground he walked on and went to extremes in order to please him.  
All except his own wife.

Was this the reason why he sought refuge here - in spite of her feisty nature? Because unlike all other people that surrounded him day in, day out, Catherine never curried favour with him. And she didn't annoy him the way Kenna did.

Of course, his wife was able to annoy him in another, even more dangerous way, but the resistance she was now showing was exceptionally appealing and also very sexy thanks to her inadequately dressed condition.  
Usually distracted by their political quarrels, he sometimes forgot that his Medici wife also had to show extremely attractive attributes for herself.

"Henry!" Catherine rudely tore him out of his thoughts and pierced him with an impatient glare. Eager to see where this evening and her mood would take them, he gave in for the time being and moved over to the seating area to grant his wife some privacy to get ready for bed.

When Catherine reappeared from behind the screen, Henry sat at her dressing table and checked the little jars and cups for their contents. But he immediately felt her presence and slowly turned to look at her.

His wife was wearing a cream-coloured, gossamery nightgown with no sleeves that was only held by two thin straps. It fitted like a second skin and gloriously displayed all her curves. He had never seen her wearing that garment before, for he certainly would have remembered seeing her in something like that.  
In addition Catherine had completely forgone wearing a dressing gown.

"It's way too hot for false shamefacedness," she explained, as if guessing his thoughts. But maybe his eyes spoke for themselves. "Besides, our marriage is only platonic anyway. So you certainly won't mind," she added smugly and took a yellowish tincture from his hand that smelled of sweet fruits and flowers. To put the jar back in place, his Queen had to bend over him and her right breast grazed his cheek.

But before he could react, she was already gone and he could do nothing but silently observe her approaching the bed.  
The way the sparse candlelight highlighted her round behind under the thin fabric caused all his blood to rush into his nether regions. Henry could barely suppress a moan.

Silently he watched her removing the shiny coverlet. Then she went over to the balcony door and opened it to let in some fresh air. Catherine stood there for a moment and looked out into the night sky when a light breeze gently swept through her hair, making her curls dance.  
Enchanted by the sight, Henry rose from his chair and slowly walked towards his wife, who had turned her face to the left. She was quietly and thoughtlessly watching the full moon.

Her beautiful and aristocratic profile had always fascinated him and at that moment her countenance reminded him of Luna, the ancient Roman Goddess of the moon who had apparently descended upon earth for his eyes to feast on.  
His very own little deity.

Catherine chose this instant to unexpectedly turn around. She didn't seem surprised to find him openly staring at her. Without a word she let her own gaze glide down his naked chest. Henry knew that his arousal was no longer a secret when her eyes widened for the fraction of a second.

"Oh please," she hissed and something dark and dangerous flared up in her eyes. It was quite obviously that his little deity was angry.

And while Henry was still struggling with his emotions and the feelings his wife evoked in him, he asked himself whether to cover up his newly awakened weakness for her or rather risk an rapprochement, his wife resolutely pushed him aside.

"You'd better get yourself under control before you climb into that bed," she told him sharply and got under the covers. "And don't forget to put out the light."

An angry and extremely bossy little deity, Henry through.


	5. Chapter 5

Instead of lying down next to Catherine, Henry betook himself to flight in an attempt to cool his heated body off on the balcony. It irritated him, how much his wife's presence was bewitching him as of late. He was even more irritated by his own body's reaction to her allure that was normally carefully hidden under brusqueness.  
It was old news that his Medici wife's behaviour made him go wild once in a while, a reaction he has gotten used to during the many years of their marriage. But what he wasn't used to was this powerful attraction he was feeling. An attraction that was undoubtedly sexual in natur, which astounded and frustrated him equally. How did she do that?

Catherine was a mystery to him. The metres high protective walls she had built around her heart after their discord made it impossible for him to crash through to her true self. Only her children were given access to this impregnable fortress built of pride, indifference and royal grandeur. Once upon a time the privilege of knowing the real Caterina had been granted to him as well. But that had been at a time when her wall had been low and less solid.

But what had changed now? Where did the fascination his wife exerted all of a sudden came from? In any case, it was not the lack of women who were willing to share his bed.  
Had she unknowingly awakened his hunting instinct with her stubbornness and her refusal to even meet him halfway?  
Or was it his weariness of Kenna that made Catherine seem so tempting all of a sudden? But if that was the case, why didn't his weariness drive him to Diane, but to his mulish wife instead?

And why did he question their platonic relationship all of a sudden? Declaring their marriage as a mere platonic one had been a significant change for them. But after Catherine had given birth to Hercule and under the pressure of his mistresses, that decision had appeared like the best and logical consequence that time.  
Was Catherine right?  
Did he always desire what was out of his reach?  
But the question, that was of much more importance, was: Could he resist this sweet temptation? Or did he even want to resist?

Henry let his gaze glide back into the room. His eyes came to rest where his wife had made herself comfortable in her bed, reading a book in the pale light of the candles.

Torn between his desire and listening to the voice of reason, he returned to Catherine's bedchamber. She didn't even bother to look up from her reading when he sat down next to her.  
"The candles, Henry," she reminded him in her most commanding tone when he had just started to make himself comfortable in her bed.

Henry briefly considered picking up another quarrel with Catherine, but then he sighed heavily, rose for peace's sake and blew out the remaining candles.  
The small, self-satisfied smile on the corner of her lips did not escape his attention. He let her savour her triumph and returned to bed while his Queen put her book aside and blew out the last remaining candle on her bedside table.  
Henry heard a soft rustling noise next to him, but he couldn't see Catherine's silhouette as his eyes hadn't yet got used to the darkness.

And while he was still asking himself whether now was the right time to get back under his wife's skirts, he felt her move to the outer edge of the bed.  
"Good night, Henry."  
"Night," he grumbled, cursing himself and his foolishness for having released Catherine from her marital duties in favor of his mistresses.

At the next morning, the King of France woke up in an empty bed. He did not know whether to feel disappointed or relieved about the fact that his wife had already left her chambers.

And since a council meeting had been scheduled for this morning, it was not until late afternoon where he met Catherine again at a small and unofficial reception for an Italian delegation that wanted to show their respect to the royal couple and especially to their Italian Queen.

Unlike on other occasions of this kind, Henry's attention did not instantaneously wander through the rows of the ladies present to feast on their beauty or to select possible mistresses. No, today it was his Medici wife, who was wearing a magnificent black robe that was adorned with abundant golden embroideries with wide and golden skirts shimmering under it's hem, that magically attracted his attention.

As usual, she was wearing her strawberry blonde hair in an elegant updo, but a few curls framed her face and fell into her neck, making her appear softer and much more lovely. Her light, freckled skin contrasted wonderfully with the black of her outfit and Catherine's eyes reminded him of dark amber when her gaze briefly met his.

"Henry! I've been waiting for you all night in vain!" Distracted by the sight of his wife, he hadn't even noticed that Kenna had approached him. Started feeling annoyed by her mere presence, the King of France drove around and was confronted with an reproachful, almost hurt glare.  
"What's the matter, Kenna?" Henry didn't even bother tyring to hide his impatience and indignation, which eiter seemed to escape his young lover's attention or she deliberately ignored his acidified mood.

"I spend hours of my day transforming our chambers into an oasis of happiness, and you don't even grant me the time to take at least a look at it! Is it too much to ask for? I'm doing all of this just for you, just to please you."  
In her childish eagerness to confront him, she seemed to have completely forgotten who she was talking to and – most importantly - that they weren't alone.  
"Now is not the right time..." before Henry could finish his sentence, Kenna grabbed his hand and looked at him with big, tear-filled eyes.

"But when is the right time? You're avoiding me during the day and at night..." His young mistress faltered and accusingly looked at Catherine's direction. Henry's gaze followed hers and what he saw at the other end of the room didn't please him at all.

Maurizio Esposito, a handsome Italian who had the reputation of being a notorious seducer and enthusiast of the fairer sex, had separated his wife from his fellow countrymen and was immersed with her in an intimate looking conversation. As if this wasn't bad enough, Catherine had stripped off her heavy and probably quite warm robe and was now showcasing herself in her bulky golden skirts and a black corsage with artful, likewise golden stitchery on it. The corsage was beautiful but it was incredibly tight and showed off her bosom in a virtually scandalous way, not to mention her bare and freckled shoulders. She was a vision of pure delight.  
It was impossible to say whether the heat in the hall or her admirer had prompted Catherine to remove her robe, but Henry hated the thought that she was presenting a sight to his entire court that was to be strictly reserved for him alone as her husband.

His telltale body language and the lecherous glances, the Italian Casanova uninhibitedly threw at Henry's wife, revealed how much he enjoyed the view he was offered. But what least suited the King was the radiant and beguiling smile, Catherine rewarded the man with for his advances. Then she straightened her shoulders in a barely noticeable way what involuntarily directed both men's focus to her lush décolleté.

"You're not even listening to me." Kenna's whining voice broke through his jealousy, but it couldn't divert his attention from his flirting wife.  
"Not now, Kenna," he grumbled angrily and simply took off, leaving the young woman by herself.

With wide steps the King of France crossed the hall and abruptly stopped in front of his wife and her impudent Italian suitor.

"Maurizio, lei é un incorreggibile incantatore", Catherine coquetted and although Henry didn't understand a word, he didn't miss the playful note of her words.  
"Puó solo incolparmi di averammirato la sua bellezza, Caterina." When the Italian dared to call his wife by her first name, the fine hair on Henry's neck raised and a grim and ominous expression appeared on his face.  
"Visconte Esposito, you will have to excuse us. Catherine, a word." Henry waited neither for Visconte's answer nor for his wife's reaction, for he grabbed her arm and resolutely lead her away from this Italian Filou.

"Henry, what is it?" As expected, Catherine resisted his grip but the King of France paid no attention to her protest. The nobles surrounding them all the more. So Henry headed for the balcony in order to have a serious and unwitnessed talk with his stubborn wife.

"Do I need to remind you that you are not a common harlot, but the Queen of France and my wife? No matter how hot it is or how delightful the sight of you may be, cover yourself for heaven's sake." Henry's and Catherine's gaze contemporaneously glided down to her cleavage, which was particularly daring and lush this evening.

And there it was again, that little knowing smile on her lips that gave her expressive eyes a dangerous glow.

"Since when does it bother you if a woman shows off her virtues?"  
"If said woman is mine, Catherine."  
"Oh, I see, you don't want the toy you've discarded for yourself, but you don't like it either if someone else looks at it or - God forbid - perhaps even admire it? What a bigoted fool you are, Henry."  
Upon hearing these words, he unexpectedly pulled her towards him, so that the mound of her breasts almost touched his chest.

"No matter what you think, my Queen will NOT degrade herself as an sexual object for the men present by baring her breasts and shoulders in a scandalous way, like any random trollop," Henry whispered into her ear.  
"You mean like Kenna," Catherine wasn't able to suppress a humorless laugh and stared up at him with her chin raised stubbornly.

"Caterina" His lips almost touched hers as he growled her name and tried to subdue her with sheer willpower. "This has nothing to do with Kenna."  
"Of course not," answered his wife, and her gaze wandered back into the hall and remained on Henry's young lover, who, like Catherine, was wearing a bodyhugging purple bodice that left her shoulders uncovered.  
Until now Henry hadn't even taken notice of his mistress's wardrobe.  
"She's a young unwed noblewoman, but you're a married woman. MY Queen."  
"Oh, I understand."  
"I hope you do."

Henry called one of the servants and instructed him to bring her Majesty's robe out to the terrace. He did not want her parading through the hall in her lightly dressed state once again and under the greedy eyes of all those men present. This sight was reserved for his eyes only.

When the servant appeared with the garment, Henry took the opportunity and helped his wife putting on her robe. In doing so his fingers stroke the delicate arching of her breasts by chance.  
"As for Visconte..." Catherine rolled her eyes and slapped his hands away to close her robe herself.  
"Oh for heaven's sake, Henry," she said in annoyance and squeezed past her husband in order to return to the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

After their confrontation on the balcony, Catherine had to repress her anger about her husband's impossible behavior. On the other hand she felt strangely flattered by this unexpected display of jealousy. She had admittedly chosen tonight's attire with special care in order to show off her own merits and to remind Henry of the things he had thrown away so carelessly. And she couldn't deny the feeling of triumph she now experienced because her plan seemed to work out.

For the banquet he went through the trouble of changing their seating arrangement at the very last minute to ensure that Catherine found herself trapped between him and the most boring and simple-minded lords in the whole of France. The Visconte and his entourage had been banished to the farthest end of the hall.

To make matters worse, every time Mauricio looked at her direction, Henry had either reached for her hand or provocatively bent over to her while leaning into per personal space. Once or twice he had even put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her nearer. She was all aware that these gestures were of a possessive nature.

Actually the Visconte did not interest her at all. She liked his open, mighty fetching ways and of course she had enjoyed the attention this handsome Italian had granted her. But beyond that she did not pursue any salacious goals.  
And why should she? She could already call a handsome and unfaithful philanderer of a husband her own. On that account her needs were sufficiently covered.

As soon as the feast was over, Catherine gracefully rose to escape the nasal and shallow tales of the Lord sitting next to her before he could bore her to death. With a sigh on her lips, the Queen of France merged with the wall behind her and let her gaze glide attentively over the guests present.

Her eyes lingered on Lady Kenna, Mary's lady in waiting and her husband's current mistress. The young woman was undeniably beautiful and blessed with an immaculate figure, a fact Catherine had to acknowledge not without a hint of envy.  
But physical beauty was of evanescent nature. Especially at French Court. And Henry for sure would burst her naive little bubble of happiness rather sooner than later.  
Because Henry was a peevish coeval. No matter how fast his baser human instincts had slingshot the young girl into his bed, her whining, childish manners as well as her vanity would kick her out of the King's bed just as quickly.

She had lost count on the number of sluts Henry had shamelessly paraded around her home. None of them had attracted the king's attention for more than half a year except Diane de Poitiers. And quite a few of them had been much cleverer than the young Scottish lass.

And while Catherine was still pondering over Kennas expiration date in her husband's bed, the young woman slowly strolled at her direction, accompanied by Mary's other ladies in waiting.

"Aylee, have you seen how Lord Vincent keeps on looking at you?" Greer asked full of excitement and the young ladies put their heads together and giggled sillily, which caused Catherine to roll her eyes.  
"Surely he isn't looking at me," replied the shy girl and ran her fingers through her blond hair in shame. Then she insecurely looked at the other direction to catch a glimpse of the nobleman who seemed to be putting the girls in such a state of excitement.

"Of course he's looking at you. His eyes lit up the second he's been introduced to you." Lady Kenna threw back her dark hair and longingly looked over at the other end of the hall, where Henry was standing, surrounded by the members of his privy council.  
"I wish Henry would still look at me the way Vincent looks at you."  
"But he does," Aylee assured her. She seemed relieved that their attention was now focused on Kenna and the King. "And you've moved into his chambers!"  
"Chambers he has been avoiding since I've moved in."

Kennas testimony elicited a small, gloating smile on Catherine's face. For she didn't want to harbour her husband in her very own chambers, but it still gave her great pleasure to witness his young lover's despair.

"Maybe he's just very busy right now," Lola tried to appease her friend but Kenna sadly shook her head.  
"That's not the reason. He's avoiding me." A little quieter and obviously ashamed, she added: "The last two nights he didn't sleep in our chambers."

"I thought he promised you to sent Diane back to Anet," Lola asked and grabbed the other girl's hand in a compassionate gesture.  
"He did. But it's not Diane he's spending his nights with. It's Catherine." Henry's mistress cast out her name with so much contempt that Catherine was tempted to laugh out loud in amusement. But she resisted this temptation in order to keep on hiding her presence.

"Not that it worries me too much, Henry assured me that there's absolutely nothing going on between him and his wife. But he just doesn't understand how much his behavior hurts me."  
"Are you sure that there's nothing going on between the King and his Queen?" Greer craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Henry. "He threw a lot of meaningful looks her way tonight."

"She probably just disgruntled him once again. Honestly, there's nothing to be afraid of. She is old, quite ordinary looking and - I don't want to sound mean – but her many children have ruined her figure. Just look at her backside for instance, it reminds me of..."  
"Aren't Henry and Catherine the same age?" Lola interrupted Kennas tirade.  
"But she's far from ordinary." To Catherine's surprise, even the gentle and shy Aylee defended her.

"Are you taking her side?" The outrage on Kennas face was as amusing as it was presumptuous.  
"Of course not, we are always on your side. But Catherine is not Diane, whom he may banish from court for your sake. She is his wife." Greer tried to appease her friend, while the Queen of France had to mobilise all her restraint in order not to make her presence known and stopping this conversation this instant.

"Only by law. Henry assured me that their marriage is practically dead. Just look at her, what on earth could she even offer him? Why should he be content with her if he can have someone like me?" The audacity and arrogance of that statement prompted Catherine to make herself known by approaching the young women, an ominous expression on her face.

It was Aylee, who first spottet the Queen if France and stared at the older woman in horror.  
"Kenna," she whispered insistently, but the dark-haired girl had already talked herself into quite a rage and wasn't listening.  
"Word is that she's frigid, I have even heard that..."  
"Kenna!" Panic resonated in Aylee's high-pitched voice.

"Then I'm sure that neither Henry nor you have anything to worry about when he's spending his nights in my bed, am I right, Lady Kenna?" And although Catherine's voice sounded sweet as honey, her eyes radiated an arctic cold that was able to freeze her young rival's blood into ice.  
"Your Majesty, that wasn't... I mean...I..." Kenna stammered and panicky looked at her friends who were of no help since they had shamefacedly lowered their heads at Catherine's appearance.

"I would like to mentally duel with you, my dear Lady Kenna, but I can see that you're unarmed. Luckily you have different, far advanced prowess. So once you have dispelled all potential candidates for a marriage by your vicious life at court, you are still pretty enough to become a prostitute. Because unlike myself, the bringing forth of the King's heirs have not ruined your flawless figure. How very fortunate you are." Kenna just stood there, staring at the Queen in bewilderment. Each and every insult had hit her to the core and Catherine enjoyed her verbal triumph with no sign of remorse.

The bewilderment that was clearly written all over Lady Kenna's face gave way to humiliation, followed by anger. But Catherine didn't give her husband's mistress a chance to react to her verbal attack. She resolutely turned around and took off with flowing skirts and a self-satisfied smile on her lips.

"What an impudent little trollop," she whispered while leaving the battlefield of their verbal slander. "Who does she think she is?" She was nothing but one more slut who was spreading her legs for the King.  
It was one thing, maintaining a public relationship with her husband. But quite another thing to insult the Queen of France in such an outrageous way and having the audacity to do so loudly and at an event of this magnitude.  
Not even Diane had ever stooped so low in all the years she had warmed Henry's bed.

At the thought of her husband, her eyes automatically started searching for Henry in the crowd.  
She spotted him at the other end of the hall, framed by some of France's most influential nobles. She wasn't surprised at all. They were like blowflies, attracted by their ruler's blaze of glory, courting for his attention.

But what completely threw her off, was the sparkle in his eyes and the intensity of his gaze that caught hers the second he realized that she was staring his way.  
Could it be that he'd been watching her in the first place?

Henry barely shrugged his shoulders as if he had guessed her thoughts, but didn't understand her irritation. The smug grin that appeared on his lips shortly thereafter was likewise cheeky and provocative.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a vision of purple silk rushing towards Henry. Even before his young lover could reach her husband, Catherine put on a mocking smile and questioningly raised her right eyebrow. Henry returned her gesture in the same questioning manner.  
Quite obviously he hadn't noticed Kenna yet, who was - with a piqued expression on her face - trying to make her way through the noble men surrounding the King.  
Catherine wondered if she was going to complain about the verbal defeat she had suffered, or if she was going to confront him about his lack of attention.

Mildly amused and curious about things to come, she watched Kenna urgently pulling on Henry's sleeve like the spoiled little brat she was, until he drove aroud and hissed at her in annoyance. All the while his eyes were still captured by hers. A fact that Lady Kenna didn't miss either.  
Catherine pointedly pursed her lips, then she abruptly turned around and left the hall with her head held high, swinging her hips more than usual.

She didn't need to have eyes at the back of her head to know that Henry's attention was still pinned on her. She could feel his intense, almost possessive look burning on her back.

And she knew the meaining of that look. Henry wanted her. Of all potential sexual partners in this room, it was her he desired.  
Not because she was his wife or because it was his conjugal duty to lie with her. No, tonight he wanted to make love to her, to take her like a lover, like a mistress. The passionate longing in his gaze had revealed his true intentions.

Thirty minutes ago, this realization might have mortified her. Most likely she would have indignantly reminded him of the content of his stupid agreement where he had proclaimed their marriage as strictly platonic. Now, however, spurred on by Lady Kenna's outrageous remarks, she thirsted for her own pound of flesh.

Perhaps now was the time to replace her role of the rejected, deceived wife for the role of a desirable seductress? She could fight fire with fire.  
And the prospect of putting the little Scottish slut back into her place would be the cherry on top of the cake of her personal revenge.


	7. Chapter 7

Henry asked himself when exactly this supposedly harmless banquet in honour of Catherine's fellow countrymen had turned into his personal spree of misery.

Was it the moment the Visconte had decided to give Henry's wife his questionable and unwanted attention?  
Or when his wife had blithely taken off her robe and thus granted all those present in the throne room a sight that was strictly meant for his eyes only?  
Or was Kenna's perpetual nagging the final kiss of death for his mood since she was constantly whining about his lack of interest and attention in the most childish way?  
Or maybe it's been the unsettling moment of realization that of all people in the world it was his capricious wife who he desired most tonight. More than any other woman, more than any power, even more than England.

He couldn't name the exact moment, but there was one thing he knew: All these possible causes had one particular commonality. Catherine. His stubborn and impossible Medici-wife who was currently dominating his world of thought. She had conquered every fibre of his being and it was impossible for him to concentrate on anything else. A state of mind that was at the same time frustrating and tremendously exciting.

Henry felt upset with himself and his promiscuous promise to Diane to forsake his sexual relationship with his wife. But at that time, his admission had seemed like the most reasonable compromise.

After all, Catherine had given him more than enough heirs, and in the end he had given in to the urges of his mistress by eliminating the greatest factor of contention that had always stood between him and Diane. His wife.

He could still remember the look on Catherine's face when he had told her in an admittedly insensitive way that from now on he would stand clear of her bed and that she was formally relieved of her conjugal duties. At that moment, all color had drained from her face and for the fraction of a second she had been unable to maintain her majestic and normally so rigid mask of stoic indifference. She had re-gained her composure surprisingly quickly, yet she had unwillingly granted him a glimpse at her innermost, unable to prevent him from seeing the pain and despair his proclamation had caused her.  
At that moment he had felt like the most horrible person on earth. He would have preferred a violent outburst over her quiet resignation.

From that day on he had tried to avoid his wife. Not to spare her feelings or her eyes from his sight, no, his motives had been far more selfish.  
He just couldn't bear looking at Catherine. Even though she had never lost her composure, neither in public nor behind closed doors, but there was always this unspeakable pain in her soulful eyes, that had not only shown him what a lousy husband he was, but they also made him painfully aware of what he had given up.

And even though he had never reproached Diane for having forced him to make a decision or for voicing her desire for clarity, his subsequent actions had driven a wedge between them.  
And as time went by, he had realized that his voluntary renunciation and releasing Catherine of all her connubialities was nagging him more than he had ever imagined.

This realization had led him to frustration and eventually estranged him from Diane.  
The little Lass had therefore been a welcome diversion who had satisfied his physical desires and incidentally she had distracted him from Catherine and his feelings. Feelings he had not been willing to fathom.  
At least not until Kenna had started shattering his nerves with her childish behaviour and her spoiled ways.

And now - of all people - it was the wife he had expelled from their conjugal bed, who got his juices flowing and who was awakening some long-forgotten longing deep within his very being.  
But maybe now was the perfect time to correct his mistakes of the past and to finally reclaim what had always been his.

Without thinking twice what his guests may think, the King of France left the banquet and with long and eager steps he hurried along the familiar corridors. Taking a route that was getting more and more homey with each passing day. But this time there was a newfound determination written all over his face.

But before he could open the door to his wife's chamber, same door was torn open by Lady Charlotte, a member of Catherine's infamous flying squads, who was openly scrutinizing him. A hard to read expression was laying on her pretty face. A dangerous mixture between a sardonic, almost knowing smile and gloating.

Hadn't Charlotte been among the guests at the banquet mere minutes ago? Henry wondered how she had made it so quickly from the throne room to his wife's chambers, but decided against pursuing that question any further. What did he care about this woman's whereabouts?

All the King of France cared about this moment was his wife, who had stirred his blood and aroused his desire to a point where he couldn't think straight anymore. More determined than ever, he slipped into the room, locked the door and looked around, searching for Catherine.

It didn't take him long to find her, because his wife chose this very moment to get out of the bathtub that was positioned right in the middle of her chambers. She was stark bloody naked, her back facing the door. Myriads of water drops were sensually rolling down her shoulders and spine, passing the gentle curve of her buttocks and then made their way down her slender yet shapely toned legs. All his blood rushed towards his lower regions. Her sight elicited a deep and loud groan out of the back of Henry's throat that made his presence known.

But instead of gliding back into the tub at his unannounced appearance or reaching for a towel to cover her body in embarrassment, Catherine slowly turned around in all her naked glory and sized him up with a piercing, even provocative look. Henry dumbly stared at her breasts, whose tips hardened under his stare.  
Slowly and still holding his breath, the King of France let his gaze glide down over her stomach until his eyes set even lower, right down to the pubic mound between her legs.

"One could almost believe you'd never seen a naked woman before," Catherine mocked him with an amazingly firm voice. "How come you've already left the reception? After all, these people downstairs are your guests." Catherine paused and pointing at a towel lying nearby. "Be a dear and hand me that towel, will you, Henry?"

Feeling unable to comply with her wish, he merely stared at his wife's naked and incredibly tempting body.  
"The towel, Henry," Catherine urged him impatiently with a raised voice that yanked him right out of his numbness. Without averting his eyes from his wife's body, Henry fumbled for the soft cloth and handed it over.  
"Thank you," she said quietly, reaching for the towel to dry herself off.  
Even now she seemed anything but embarrassed, she rather stood there, seeming completely unaffected by her husband's stares and provocatively raised an eyebrow while questioningly looking at him.

"Catherine...", a hoarse supplication was all that Henry could force out of his mouth.  
Impassively the Queen of France got out of the tub and still made no effort to cover her body. Instead she approached her dressing table and began moisturising every centimeter of her skin with a lavender-scented cream. When her hands applied the lotion to her breasts with gentle, circular movements, Henry knew he couldn't stand her teasing any longer.  
"Catherine...", he started again and realized with horror how pleading his voice sounded in his own ears. Searching for the right words in his fogged mind, Henry asked himself how to express his desire in the most elegant way possible in order to declare this silly quitclaim deed null and void and that he wanted to resume their sexual relationship.

"Oh Henry, I hate to admit it but at first it mortified me when you've informed me that our physical relationship was about to reach its natural end. But now I finally see the benefit in it! For there is no longer any need to perform tedious coition. And I don't need to worry whether I will ever be able to meet your expectations or if my body - ravaged by numerous pregnancies - is even able to arouse you. Because the two of us know that I'm not exactly your type. Not the type of woman that turns your head. But thanks to you I no longer need to give it another thought. Looking back, that idea wasn't the worst you've ever had, husband. I would never have dared to show you such unbiasedness before."

Her words, succinctly spoken, induced Henry to swallow hard. That sounded like the exact opposite of what he wanted her to say.  
"Well, Catherine, actually I'm here to recall declaring our marriage a platonic relationship." Henry informed her and it upset him how insecure his voice sounded at this crucial moment. He was also pretty aware of how tactlessly his words sounded, but with her previous statement she had literally deprived him of any possibility of wordlessly seducing her.

"Pardon me?" His wife stared at him in bewilderment.  
"I want to bed you, Catherine. Now!" To give his words emphasis, Henry let his gaze wander down his body towards his swollen manhood as soon as her gaze met his and thus directed her attention to the proof of his arousal. But instead of feeling flattered by his reaction, his wife stared at his throbbing crotch with a furrowed brow.  
"You can't be serious," she mumbled in irritation and put on her dressing gown to hide her body from his burning gaze.  
"I'm dead serious." Henry confirmed and slowly approached his wife to reach for the hem of the thin gown.  
"This is absolutely out of the question," she said with certainty in her voice and eluded his hands by going to the window to stare into the dark.

"Do you enjoy humiliating me?" Catherine whispered flatly. "Who do you think I am?"  
"You are my wife, Catherine."

Henry stepped behind her in spite of her defensive posture and put his arms around her lower body.  
"Your wife who gave you heirs and her Medici gold. The only duties you've ever expected me to fulfill. You hate it when I interfere with matters of state and don't you dare denying that it's never been me who you've sought to satisfy your carnal disires. At least not anymore. And now, out of a sudden, you come running, after you've humiliated me, after you've hurt my feelings, threw me out of your bed, and you have the audacity to call for my wifely duties? Obligations I've been released from, mind you. Have you not a shred of decency in you? Have you no respect for your own damn wife?"  
Catherine's words were nothing more but a quiet, emotional whisper. And even though her body was trembling slightly, she did not try to free herself from his embrace. A fact that gave Henry hope despite her parrying attitude. He had the feeling that not everything was lost just yet. She obviously felt offended and hurt by his actions, and rightfully so, but the fact that she allowed him to hug her kept him from losing his courage.

"You misunderstood me, sweetheart. I don't want you to have sex with me because it's your duty, but because you want it as much as I do. I am here today because I desire you more than anyone else, Caterina - not because you are my wife and I could always claim what's mine to claim."  
"Not any longer, Henry. You have officially relieved me of my marital duties." Catherine hesitated briefly before she continue. "So you want me to desire you as well?"

Henry gently turned her around until she was fully facing him. Then he nodded silently with the most serious expression on his face.  
"So I can say no?" She asked.  
He had actually expected this question. He knew his wife too damn well and would have been disappointed if she hadn't considered all possible options.  
"The mere fact that you are trying to negotiate tells me that you don't want to say no," he replied and gently grasped her chin between his thumb and index finger. "Just tell me what you want, lover, and it's yours," Henry tried to lure her into giving in and reduced the distance between them.  
"I like the sound of that. Lover." Catherine whispered against his lips, but when he was finally trying to kiss her, she stopped him and freed herself from his embrace.  
"I am humbled by your generous offer, my King, but I need to decline." His wife informed him and retreated from where they were standing, leaving Henry and his full-grown problem behind at the window.

"You're hard," he attested to her, whereupon she cast him a long and mocking glance over her right shoulder. Then she slowly let her eyes slide down his chest towards his crotch.  
"I doubt that, dear husband. To me it seems that you're the only one who's being hard."


	8. Chapter 8

Taking her sweet time, Catherine calmly sat down in front of her vanity and casually started brushing her wet hair.  
"Don't play games with me, woman. I know that you want this as much as I do." Henry growled and impatiently wrenched the brush from her hand. A split second later his fingers were buried in her hair and he unceremoniously pulled Catherine back into his waiting arms.  
"I can see it in your eyes," he whispered and licked over the alabaster colored skin of her outstretched neck. "And I can smell your arousal."

One of his hands slipped beneath the hem of her robe and he let his fingers glide between her thighs. His skillful fingers teased her there until a breathless groan escaped Catherine's throat.  
Just as suddenly as he had reached for her, Henry released his wife again. With a regretful sigh he raised his hand that just had touched her in the most intimate way and closely inspected it.  
His fingertips were glistening and covered with her slick wetness. That sight alone was enough to provoke Henry to moan as well.  
"See for yourself," he demanded, offering her his fingers. "You want me!"  
His words were a statement, not a question.

To his surprise, Catherine opened her lips as soon as his fingers came closer to her mouth. Completely mesmerized by her boldness, Henry watched her little pink tongue licking over the tips of his fingers. This time they groaned in unison.  
"The wife in you may be hesitant, but the woman on the other hand..." Henry paused briefly to caress Catherine's soft breasts until her erected nipples became visible under the thin fabric of her robe. "...the woman in you wants me!"  
"The question is whether you are able to...?" Her words were only a beguiling whisper and she stopped mid sentence.

Was she really doubting his virility? As if she had guessed his thoughts, Catherine added:  
"...forget that I am merely your wife but rather your lover?"  
Had his wife just asked him to treat her like one of his mistresses?  
"Am I the king of France, darling?" Henry replied with a back answer and eagerly pulled her into his arms in order to finally kiss her.

That kiss was different from any other kiss they had shared over the recent years. It was wilder, way more passionate and of an intensity that was incomparable to anything he had ever experienced so far. This kiss possessed a familiarity that was second to none but it was still so excitingly unusual.  
A manifesto full of burning desires and unspoken promises.

Trembling with passion, Henry pulled at the belt of her dressing gown and freed Catherine from the hindering fabric. Once his eyes fell on her naked body, a deep and growling sound escaped his throat and Henry buried his bald head between the sweet valley of her breasts.  
"Your beard pricks," she complained, but she still leaned into his embrace and towards his lips, that Henry closed around one of her erect nipples.  
"You'd better get used to that, for before the night is over, my beard will prick far more sensitive parts of your anatomy." Henry promised her with a deep roll in his voice and stripped off his own clothes in lightning speed.

Then he picked her up and carried Catherine to her bed. He unceremonially dropped his prey on the mattress and threw himself upon her before she could even mutter another word.  
"You'd better be ready, lover, for in a second you'll be all mine," Henry announced. But to his utter astonishment, Catherine freed herself from his grip and forcefully rolled him over onto his back with one elegant yet determining move.  
His wife put on her most infatuating smile and kneeled down on him with a leg on each side of his body, while her dark and soulful eyes stared down at him.

"Or maybe it's you who's going to be mine now?" his wife breathed into his ear and her long, still damp hair tickled his chest. It excited him almost to a painful degree to experience Catherine in such a sensual and offensive, little short of aggressive mood. How often had he wished that the passion she usually showed while dealing with state affairs and with her children would have also been accorded to him in their former times of intimate togetherness?  
And obviously the Lord was willing to grant him this secret wish now.

Only dressed with a lascivious smile, the King of France made himself comfortable in his wife's bed, who was eager to take over the role of his lover tonight. Oh how sweet this fate was!  
"I am completely yours," Henry more than willingly declared, fascinated by the sight of his wife's breasts that swayed gently from side to side right in front of his face.  
"And you'd better remember that." She whispered against his mouth and a second later Catherine's lips attacked his mouth.

With the now following actions she was slowly but steadily driving Henry towards ecstasy. Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined Catherine displaying such a sexually wicked behavior. She awakened the kind of lust in him, he could hardly control, but each time he tried to reach for her, she decidedly pushed his hands away and relentlessly continued with his sweet ordeal. Her soft hands explored his body, caressed and teased him mercilessly, until her lips and teeth took over, leaving a wet trail down his inflamed body.

"You devilish woman!" Henry moaned out of breath when her mouth approached his manhood. Catherine gave him a wicked smile, then her tongue glided over the tip of his penis. Henry clung his hands into the sheets and closed his eyes in a helpless attempt to blank out the sight of his wife with his cock in her mouth, as he couldn't trust his ability of self-mastery at this glorious moment.

He hadn't witness his wife in such an unrestrained and self-assertive way for ages, and her caresses had made his erection swell to an almost painful degree.  
When the king couldn't bear her stimulation any longer, Henry grabbed his wife, impetuously tossed her onto the mattress and drove into her soft body with one violent and uncontainable thrust.

The surprised yell Catherine let out once he penetrated her was music to his ears.  
"Oh my God," she moaned and her wet passage felt incredibly tight and wonderful. Almost too wonderful.  
"Give me a minute," Catherine gasped and only now did he realize that her face was showing slight traces of pain. A reaction that worried him as much as it excited him. She was so wonderfully tight and her violently trembling body felt so heavenly beneath his much larger one.

It took him enormous effort to remain motionless in order for Catherine to get re-used to his size. But when she was beginning to move again, there was no stopping Henry. Not anymore.  
He frantically moved into her, harder and faster with each thrust, enjoying the notes of ecstasy he elicited from her half open lips.

She was his again! Finally his to re-claim.  
He hadn't known how important it was for him to possess his stubborn and strong-willed wife that way. And although she had asked him to treat her like one of his mistresses, he hadn't forgotten for a second that this was his wife who was giving herself to him in a most wonderfully, scandalous way. More beautiful and droolworthy than ever.

Until now it had always been either his wife or one of his mistresses who had shared his bed, independently of each other. But tonight Catherine embodied both roles at once.  
His wife and mistress, lover and beloved - united in this small, bristly force of nature – united in none other than Catherine de Medici.

This thought prompted him to pump even harder into her welcoming body until stars started to dance before his eyes. Until he lost his last restraints and his senses began to fade. Catherine's beautiful face became blurred and he wasn't able to sense anything around him but this unbridled, all-consuming lust and their ecstatic love-making.

With a deafening roar on his lips, Henry exploded inside his wife and a second later he collapsed onto her like a boneless doll, panting heavily.  
He couldn't even remember the last time he had come so violently and - above all - so fast. All of a sudden he felt like his younger, inexperienced self, whose libido he hadn't been able to control yet.

"You're done?" Catherine asked dryly and tore Henry out of his awkward thoughts. "No wonder you have to change your mistresses so often. Once you consider the brevity of the act..." Her eyes sparkled with belligerence, and if he wasn't mistaken, he also recognize malice in her gaze.  
"Would you mind getting off of me?", his wife asked with a rather sober voice. At that moment Henry didn't know whether to feel ashamed or angry. He decided against both and moved to the other side of the bed instead to properly look at her.

"One day you're going to be the end of me," he resigned and feverishly pondered about how to save face in this situation.

After all, there were more than just one possible ways to give a woman pleasure.  
But it was hard to tell if this particular woman was even interested in continuing with their amorous activities.


	9. Chapter 9

Catherine, who was more than aware of her own nakedness, stretched herself lasciviously. At the same time she tried to put a bored expression on her face.  
"One day you're going to be the end of me," Henry muttered while running his fingers over his shaved head in a frustrated gesture.  
She suspected - no, she knew - how embarrassing the situation had to be for him, nevertheless she decided to keep on torturing her husband.  
"Are you talking about coming to a comparably quick end as you did just now?" The sound that came out of his throat upon hearing this was deep and glowering.

Quite obviously Henry didn't like to be teased about his premature ejaculation.

Basically, his lack of self-mastery was a compliment to her and her sexual skills. In fact, she was delighted that she was able to drive her adventurous husband into such a state of lust and arousal that he had completely forgotten himself in the throes of passion and climaxed at an early stage.  
But she wouldn't let him get away that easily.  
Henry had ignored, humiliated and embarrassed her for years, a little humbleness would certainly suit him well for a change.

"What now? Is there a specific etiquette for a mistress? But no matter what you may have in mind, I certainly won't sneak out of my own chambers." Catherine chose to use a particularly indifferent tone.  
"Give me a moment and I'll show you things that are contrary to any etiquette you may know," Henry promised and in an attempt to seduce her, he fondled Catherine's pubic mound.

"Henry, don't bother. I have decided to terminate my borderline experience as your mistress at this point, as I see no benefit in it. Jewellery, clothes and other means of reparation I have already received enough to last me a lifetime whenever you felt the need to silence your bad conscience. But apparently, even as your lover, I am still being deprived of the privilege of sexual fulfillment."  
At this bitter announcement Henry looked down at her in shock. After a moment's hesitation he raised his hand and gently caressed her face.  
"Don't say such a thing, Caterina!"

While speaking, her husband let his fingertips slide down her cheek towards her neck. His fingers rested there for a few seconds before his hand moved on to the base of her breasts.  
Catherine tried to ignore the pleasant tingling sensation of his touch that gave her goosebumps.  
Meanwhile she wondered what Henry would do or what kind of promises he would make to get a second chance to prove his virility. For they both knew that he wouldn't give in to this shame.

Since she neither fended of his caresses nor discouraged him, Henry became bolder and he bent down in an attempt to kiss her. She let him have his way for a few seconds. Seconds she unduly enjoyed. But when his hand slipped between her legs, she vigorously slapped it away.  
"Catherine?" The uncharacteristic insecurity in his voice pleased her contrary to her expectations. Nevertheless, she escaped his eager hands by rolling to the other side of the bed.

"I've had enough for today, Henry," she explained dryly. To show him the hopelessness of his efforts, Catherine left her bed. Barefoot and stark naked, the Queen of France crossed the room to fetch her nightgown and slipped it over her head. All the while feeling Henry's hot gaze on her body, even when she turned her back to him.

She could actually sense the frustration that was seeping out his body at her refusal to give him a second chance to prove his sturdiness. But she knew better than to give in to her incorrigible husband without resistance. He would have to work hard for the privilege of making love to her once again. And she would certainly not make it easy for him.  
Judging by his tortured mien, her plan was already bearing fruit.  
Catherine had not only awakened his hunting instinct, she had also stung her husband by ambition. Not to mention that she was threatening his male honour.

The moment she had welcomed her husband in her birthday suit, Catherine knew that she had him on her hook. Most likely Henry believed that it was he who had seduced her, but truth be told SHE had been the sole maestro of this intimate symphony of seduction. And though she had not expected their lovemaking to come to such a premature end, Henry's performance played perfectly well into her hands. For this admittedly very passionate act had not experienced the perfection Henry had striven for, it now ensured that his interest kept on being focused on her person.

"Don't do that. Don't turn your back on me. Give me a chance to make it up to you, ma chérie."  
All of a sudden Catherine heard Henry's deep baritone right next to her ear. While whispering sweet words of seduction, her husband reached out for her and pulled her into his arms. Catherine closed her eyes briefly and enjoyed his intimate embrace.  
How long had she longed for him to hold her like that?

Each and every nerve ending of her body urged her to give in and for a split second – for the duration of the universe batting an eye - she lost herself in that desire. It would be so easy to just indulge into her yearning, to be swept away by frivolous feelings, by lust and passion.  
A pleasant shiver seized her overheated body and prompted it to tremble with arousal.

But then she bethought and freed herself almost violently from Henry's grip to turn her back on him.

"There's nothing you need to make amends for, Henry. We let ourselves get carried away and did something we shouldn't repeat." After she had taken a deep breath, Catherine slowly turned around to face her husband once again. Henry was standing in front of her, only wearing his trousers he had slipped on in a hurry, and dumbfounded stared at her. She mildly shook her head and stroked his bare chest in an apologetic gesture. "It was nice, please don't get me wrong. But..."  
Her king and husband didn't let her continue by putting a finger on Catherine's lips to silence her.  
"Ohhh, on the contrary, it was wonderful and we definitely should repeat this experience. And then it will be even more fabulous, that I can promise you." His last words were little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she scolded him meekly and took a step back. Judging from the determined look on his face, Catherine could tell that he wanted to interrupt her again, but this time she didn't allow him to stop her.  
"Let's not pursue an illusion here, no matter how thrilling it might have been. I am not your mistress, I am your wife. Your wife, who has provided you with enough heirs and whom you have released from all marital obligations. And I have accepted that. So if you are merely looking for a place to spend the night, then you may stay for heaven's sake. But if you are searching for an easy way to get laid and to satisfy your baser needs, you must either look for Lady Kenna or for Diane."

Catherine knew that she was in danger of losing control of the situation if - contrary to her expectations - Henry decided to go the easier way and seek his fortune with Diane or Kenna instead of trying to pursue his wife. But her instinct told her that his interest in her was for real, at least for the time being.  
And indeed Henry shook his head and stared at her with a defiant, almost offended look on his face. There was a pleading expression in his eyes that almost overturned her decision to make it as difficult as possible for him.

"But I want you, Catherine. And you are not only my wife. You are my greatest enemy and at the same time the mightiest ally I could ever ask for. And as of tonight you are also my lover. You're driving me crazy, making me drunk with lust and recently furious with jealousy." Henry told her and reduced the distance she had just brought between them seconds before.

Surprised by the severity of this statement, Catherine stared up at her husband. Then she slowly raised her hands in a defensive gesture. It was too early to give in to his pleading.  
"Henry, that's ridiculous. In two, three days at the most, you'll be longing to return to Kenna."  
When Henry shook his head in protest, she briefly with rolled her eyes and continued. "Then Diane for all I care. To endure Kenna's childish behaviour, you would have to be a saint. Someone I know you're clearly not."

Her words elicited a gurgling laugh from her husband.  
"On that one I agree with you," he said in amusement and Catherine wondered which part of her statement he had just agreed on. "But there is one thing you are dead wrong about, my dear wife. I'm enjoying sharing chambers with you. I guess I've just forgotten how extremely entertaining you and your sharp tongue can be."  
His burning gaze told Catherine that he was not only referring to her verbal skills.

"Dear lord, grow up, Henry," she rebuked him and without further explanation she turned on her heel and went to the balcony.

It had barely cooled down and a thick and heavy haze of heat still lay above them. Catherine stepped outside barefooted and leaned against the balustrade to gaze up at the nightly sky. At that moment a breath of air stroked over her, cooling off her overheated body.  
From the corner of her eye she registered that Henry had followed her out onto the balcony.  
"You keep on avoiding me. I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you."

Catherine glimpsed at Henry, then she looked up into the stars again.  
"An ambiguous remark about my readiness of tongue is what you call a serious conversation?" Henry had meanwhile approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her body, complacently ignoring her criticism.  
"I mean it, Caterina." One of his hands gently stroked her abdomen, while the other one slowly slid up her unclothed arm to caress her shoulder. Henry's touch and the titillation of his stubble on her neck made Catherine shiver blissfully.

"Let's forget about this silly renouncing, huh?" he whispered into her ear.  
"Why, Henry? Why now? Are you already bored by young Kenna? I'm not like her. I am not one of many." While speaking, Catherine gently freed herself from his grip. But this time she didn't seek refuge in flight, but turned around to look Henry straight in the eye. "As long as you cannot value me as your wife, your queen and the mother of your children, you do not deserve the right to call me your lover."

Catherine raised on tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on Henry's lips. But before he could reach for her once again, she took a step back, stroked his chest in an apologetic gesture and returned to her bedchamber.


	10. Chapter 10

With a sad look in his eyes Henry watched his wife disappear into her bedchamber, leaving him on the balcony in a state of utter confusion. With a frustrated sigh he leaned against the balustrade and stared up into the night sky. His eyes automatically wandered to the brightest of all stars - the polar star - that outshined all other stars with its brightness.   
Just like Catherine. 

Tonight all other women had seemed tame and colourless in direct comparison to his Medici wife. None of them was as beautiful and as seductive as Catherine.   
She had plain and simply enchanted him. 

Hexed him with the way she looked, with her body whose sweet temptation he had helplessly succumbed to.   
"How on earth could this have happened?" he asked himself and couldn't prevent his thoughts from wandering to their amorous encounter and thus to his failure. 

The very thought of his lack of self-mastery he had coincided with an early ejaculation, increased his frustration level beyond all measure.   
When Henry could no longer bear the disgrace, he emitted a bloodcurdling scream of despair. 

"Henry, what's all the noise about? What are you doing out there?" Catherine's voice came from inside and caused him to drive around in alarm. He even braced himself against the disapproving glare she would presumably punish him with. But to his disappointment his wife didn't even bothered to come out and see what prompted him to scream bloody murder.   
"Nothing! All is well," he answered in a sharper than necessary tone and wondered whether he was lying to her or rather to himself.   
"Then come on in, I want to sleep!"

Her words weren't a simple request but rather an order that didn't allow any room for contradiction. Every other night he would have willingly engaged himself in a fiercely argument with Catherine to make her realize that he was not taking orders from anyone, not even from his Queen.   
But after today's occurrences, however, he felt unable to contest at another battle of words.

So with a sense of resignation he returned to her herchamber.   
Catherine was already lying in her bed. Meanwhile she had tied her damp hair to a loose braid that fell over her left shoulder.   
The look she threw his way upon his return was hard to read. 

"The candles," she admonished him as she did the night before.   
And just like yesterday night, Henry obeyed without contradiction, all the while tyring to figure out what to say to ease the unpleasant tension that had spread between them. 

But there was no word in this world, no syllable that held the power to express how he felt. How should he explain his innermost desire in an understandable way? To the very woman who, unlike himself, was blessed with eloquence and who was never at a loss of words? 

Even his train of thoughts appeared dizzying and confusing.   
If he were in Catherine's place he wouldn't believe any of his words either.   
For just a few days ago the very idea of wanting to have his wife back hadn't even occurred to him. A truly absurd thought. 

And yet he had fallen for her once again it seemed. Because with their imposed closeness, all his suppressed and almost forgotten feelings he had once buried deep inside his very being had reappeared. Feelings whose unexpected depth sparked a sense of helplessly inside him. 

Sadly she was right about the things she had thrown his way. He was a lousy husband. The kind of husband he never wanted to be. 

In retrospective, he could only feel profound respect and gratitude for Catherine always playing her role as Queen of France and mother of his heirs par excellence despite his disrespectful behaviour towards her.   
For playing the role as his wife he had quite simply stopped offering her. So in response she had stopped wanting to be his wife at all and started making his life difficult over the years.

And she was a master of her trade. Nobody else he knew had the gift of bringing him on the verge of furiousness as fast as his Medici wife. In the recent years he had often been tempted to strangle her with his own hands. Closely followed by the desire to literally fuck the stubbornness right out of her body. A temptation he rarely succumbed to. For although their love had noticeably cooled down over the years, he had never stopped coveting his wife.

But it was more than the temptation of the flesh that had triggered his change of heart. Catherine de Medici was far more than a beautiful body to be desired. She was blessed with brains and her high level of comprehension sometimes even left him behind. Moreover, she had an unbending, strong will and the things she did she did for France and her family, not even shying away from unorthodox methods. A strength he admired.

But what he loved most about Catherine was her gentle side. A side of her he occasionally caught a glimpse of. Hidden under her authoritarian demeanor and beautiful robes. There were only few people who had ever seen the soft, almost vulnerable-looking Caterina hidden behind these steel-hard walls.   
Oh how he longed for tearing down the walls between them. Walls he had significantly contributed raising.   
But how?

Smoothing things over between them with words was impossible.   
The only thing that might suborn Catherine to put the differences aside and return to him was putting his words into deeds.   
Deeds that showed her that his feelings were sincere and that he was seriously tyring to give their marriage another chance.   
Deeds that fortified his words and that varied from the reparations he had tried to smooth his lapses with in the past. 

Not an easy task, of that he was sure. But he also knew that the opportunity of having a real marriage with Catherine would be worth all effort of the world, as the last few days had shown him.

"Good night, Caterina," he whispered into the darkness while agonising about the best possible way to go on from here.


	11. Chapter 11

Catherine woke up in an empty bed. So Henry had already left. She was actually surprised that he hadn't betaken himself to flight right after their dispute last night. She knew her husband well enough to understand that her rejection and the shame he had experienced had crushed his male ego and that he might be seeking affirmation somewhere else.  
Now she would see how serious he was with the assurances he had made and how desperate his need to put things straight between them was.

She admonished herself not to place too much hope on it. Men like Henry were good with words and always easy to inspire. Maintaining his enthusiasm was not one of his strengths on the other hand.

With a yawn the Queen of France rose from her bed and slipped into her dressing gown. Just when she was about to call for her maids and ladies in waiting, her chamberdoor opened and a handful of servants who were working for her husband poured into the room like a swarm of assiduous bees.  
"Your Majesty," one of the men greeted her and submissively bowed his head. Then he raised his hand and with a snap of his finger, he signified the other servants to start carriying in vast quantities of food, flowers and fabrics.

Catherine stared at the frezy of activity in bewilderment. She was too stunned by the events that she didn't even notice that Henry had returned as well.  
"Good morning, Caterina. Did you sleep well? I took the liberty of having our breakfast served in your chambers." Her husband approached her and sensually kissed her good morning in front of everyone present.  
"I have asked the kitchen to prepare those little raspberry tartlets you love. And we have italian jamón serrano!" Henry reached for her hand and directed her towards the sitting area, where the table was already set and a second one had been built up that was nearly bending under the weight of the delicacies.

She noticed that only her most favourite dishes were being served.  
"Henry, what's the meaning of this?" she wanted to know, whereupon Henry gave her his most charming smile.  
"The fact that you don't even realize that I'm courting you shows me that there are still some shortcomings in my efforts that need improvement."  
"You're courting me?" Catherine stared first at her husband, then at the breakfast buffet and then over at the piles of colorful fabrics that two women were eagerly spreading out on her bed.  
"Yes, my darling. And I need your help."

With pointed fingers Catherine reached for a piece of ham since she could no longer resist the temptation of her favorite food.  
"My help? With what exactly?" she asked carefully. Her voice resonated with suspicion.  
"With my choice of costume. I haven't really thought about what to wear at our upcoming masked ball."  
"You want me to choose a costume for you?"

This morning was full of unexpected surprises. To cover her irritation, Catherine grabbed one of the tartlets and plucked a raspberry from it to put it in her mouth.  
"I rather thought that my costume should match yours. And I am pretty sure that yours is already being commissioned as we speak?" Henry conspiratorially wiggled his brows and loaded his plate with delicacies.  
"You want to go to the masked ball as a couple? Seriously?"

The sheer idea that her husband was making such a proposition was so surprising that she felt the urge to pinch herself.  
"Exactly! So tell me, Caterina, what are we going to wear?"  
"I am wearing a viking-style robe, but Henry..."  
"Vikings! What a brilliant idea. Oh, this is wonderful. Forget the fabrics, we need furs!" The King called in the girl's direction and happily beamed at Catherine who didn't have the heart to refuse him.

Instead, she concentrated on her breakfast as not to indulge in the idea that her husband had indeed decided to court her and intended to appear as a couple in public. At a ball that was still four weeks in the future. So Henry planned on the long run and not just for a few days.  
"Alright, Henry. Fine with me," Catherine agreed and took another bite of her tartlet.

In the following days, her husband showered her with attention and small, significant gestures. He abstained from giving her the same expensive yet meaningless gifts he had tried to buy her absolution with in the past. Apparently Henry had learned from his mistakes.  
Nowadays it were flowers, chocolate and other delicacies that always appeared wherever she was going. In addition, her husband gave her something he had always been avaricious with. His time.

On official occasions or during audiences he nowadays reached for her hand and he often sought her gaze. Henry even surprised her and their entire court by asking her for advice on some matters before making his final decision.  
And he kept on calling her Caterina.

She betted that Henry couldn't even imagine the effect it had on her when he used her true birth name. This familiar, very intimate pronunciation gave her goose bumps. And the more often he pronounced her name that way, the more she was tempted to give up her resistance towards her husband.  
But she didn't want to be won over so quickly.  
She didn't want to be an easy conquest.  
Her husband had humiliated her for years and her sceptical heart needed more guarantees than her carelessly whispered birth name.

One afternoon, Catherine had decided to take a little stroll through the royal gardens to enjoy the cool air that had finally freed the castle and its inhabitants from the heat yoke, she made a delightful discovery.  
Lost in thought, she sauntered through her beautiful rose gardens that were vibrating with bloom. She had sent her ladies away for she didn't feel like company.  
When Catherine walked around one of the hedges, she discovered four young women sitting on a bench in front of her. Her first impulse was to chase the intruders away. But when she recognized Lady Kenna in one of the girls, Catherine stopped herself from doing so.

Was she mistaken or was Henry's young mistress shedding bitter tears? Using her roses for cover, the Queen of France cautiously approached Mary's ladies.  
"Are you sure that this is final?" she heard Greer ask while stroking her friend's back in comfort.  
"How can you misinterpret: Kenna, get the hell out of here, it's over! " Kenna sobbed and her voice broke over a surge of fresh tears.  
"Maybe he...", Aylee, who just wanted to help the miserable girl, was rudely interrupted.  
"It's all her fault," the King's dark-haired mistress whined angrily and the other girls looked at her in irritation.  
"Who's fault?" Lola finally dared to ask since Kenna didn't care to explain herself.  
"His wife of course! This evil witch. I'd really like to know how she managed to have him wrapped around her little finger in no time. Henry seems like a different person to me. All of a sudden he professes that he loves her. Catherine de Medici of all people! How can he love her? Her heart is as cold and hard as stone".

"But you have to admit that they've both acted differently as of late. There is something between them," Greer said.  
"And they are married. With each other," Aylee added but Kenna just snorted contemptuously.  
"That didn't stop him from taking mistresses before. I was always aware that our love wouldn't last forever. You see, Henry promised me to help me find a suitable husband. Then at the latest we would have to end our relationship. I was even aware of the possibility that he might fall in love with another woman or bring Diane back to court. But Catherine?!"

Kenna said the latter with so much horror in her voice that Catherine almost laughted out loud.  
"And now?" Lola asked.  
"What do you think? That's it. He kicked me out! And I was stupid enough to plan remodeling his chambers. Construction plans are made, the work has already started! He had chased away the workmen just like that and declared my plans null and void. I have lost my face. How am I ever going to..."  
Kenna, who wallowed in self-pity, broke off and started sobbing. Her friends pulled the girl into a comforting embrace.  
Catherine snorted contemptuously and rounded the rosebush to end the tragedy that was taking place right before her eyes.  
What this outrageous brat needed was a proper spanking and nothing that affirmed her in her state of self-pity and crying tantrum.

"What do you think you're doing? These are the Royal Gardens. So get the hell out of here. Now!" Catherine commanded in a very calm voice, using nearly the same words her husband had ended his affair. With secret satisfaction she watched the girls take flight, muttering their useless apologies.

So Henry had actually kicked Kenna out of his chambers? Was he finally putting his money where his mouth was?  
Driven by curiosity, Catherine visited Henry's chambers right after finishing her walk to get an impression of the situation.  
To her surprise, she didn't find the room abandoned. Henry was standing right in the midst of the chaos formerly known as his chambers, his hands on his hips, calling out orders to his servants.  
"Yes, take all of these shirts. Except for the green one. Throw that away, it's terrible. No, not these boots, the other pair!"

A young lad hurried past her, his arms were loaded with shirts and jackets.  
"Your Majesty" The boy muttered a shy greeting once he realized who had just entered the King's chambers.  
His words prompted Henry to drive around.  
"Caterina! Look at this mess." Catherine shook her head in confusion. As if to prove his point, Henry drove his index finger over one of the heavy chests. His finger left a clean streak on the thickly dusted piece of furniture.  
"What's going on, Henry?" she wanted to know , although she aleady had a pretty good idea of what has happened during the last few hours.  
"Kenna transformed my chambers into a dusty construction area. That's what happened!"

Catherine stepped aside to make room for a servant loaded with even more of her husband's clothes.  
"That I see. But why does it bother you all of a sudden? Wasn't that the point of this whole initiative?" she reminded him.  
"I wasn't in my right mind when I agreed to this insanity. But that's over now. I threw Kenna out. I'm done with her," Henry told her, pointing at another chest his servants carried out at his command.  
"And why are they carrying half of your things away, if you have thrown poor Kenna out, for God's sake?"

She already guessed his answer and wasn't surprised when Henry answered:  
"They bring my things over to your chambers. No-one can live like that. My darling, I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me for a little while longer. At least until the renovation work has been finished."  
"The work hasn't even started yet, Henry," Catherine sighed and inspected a black doublet she always liked seeing him in.  
Henry stepped up to her and stroked her cheek in a loving gesture.  
"See it as a chance," he advised her.  
"A chance for what?"  
"For getting to know each other better."  
"I was afraid that you'd say something of that kind," Catherine replied and handed the jacket over to one of his servants to have it brought to her chambers.

"Don't you like this idea?" Henry wanted to know and pulled her nearer.  
"Not even a tiny little bit?" The teasing undertone of his voice and Henry's closeness provoked Catherine to turn her lips into a little smile. A smile that couldn't escape Henry's attention.  
"I knew it," he rejoiced. "And you're happy because I've ended things with Kenna. For you can't stand her."  
Henry, who had put his arm around Catherine's waist, gently pulled her towards the door.  
"You are right about one thing, husband. I can't stand her."  
"And you're glad I've kicked her out. C'mon, admit it."  
"Okay, it's gratifying. Are you happy now?"  
"Almost. You could kiss me to celebrate this new development, Caterina."

Henry's proposal prompted her to look up at him with her right eyebrow raised.  
"Or I could ignore your suggestion," she countered and freed herself from his grip.  
Gathering her wide skirts, Catherine de Medici left her husband's chambers.  
On her face the Queen of France was wearing a broad, self-satisfied smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Your Majesty, Giuseppe Devita has arrived." The court marshall looked up at Henry, who was already bored to death from listening to the whining of two members of his privy council.  
"Finally! What are you waiting for, send the good man in," the King said and rose from his throne, happy to escape these men's lamentation. At his command, the heavy doors were opened and a small wiry man rushed towards him.  
Henry had last seen the Italian one and a half decade ago. Giuseppe's formally dark hair was streaked with grey strands nowadays and it stood wildly on end. The clothes the man was wearing were colorful and of extravagant jauntiness, his eyes sparkled with joy.  
"Oh Mama mia! It's been ages since I've last seen you. Where is that stunning wife of yours?"  
To Henry's amazement, the smaller man gave him a hug and effusively kissed his cheeks before letting his attention wander over those present in search of Catherine.

"Caterina doesn't know I've sent for you. Your visit is sort of a surprise for her," Henry answered and brought some distance between them.  
"Oh, what a wonderful idea! I love surprises. Especially when I'm supposed to be the main component of such a one."  
Henry could only hope that Catherine shared these sentiments.

Wearing his most festive doublet and fighting a queasy feeling in his stomach, Henry Valois entered the lady's parlor one hour later, where his wife was having tea with some of her ladies-in-waiting.  
"Henry, what are you doing here?"  
Irritated by his appearance, Catherine put her cup down. Her surprise about his unexpected appearance was clearly written all over her beautiful face.  
"I'm here to steal you away, my dear." Smiling at her with boyish charm, Henry held out his hand in an inviting gesture. But instead of accepting his arm, Catherine just stared at him, her brow was furrowed in suspicion. His wife's reaction prompted Henry to groan in frustration.  
Why had he ever expected her to come along without resistance in the first place?

"Trust me." Henry realized too late how unfortunate his choice of words sounded. During the past few weeks Catherine had made it more than clear that she did not trust him, no matter how hard he tried. In fact, he couldn't even blame her for her mistrust. After all, he had given Catherine little reason to trust him in the past.  
But to his surprise, she reached out for his hand after a short moment of deliberation.  
"Do you want to know what happens in case you..."  
Henry interrupted his wife as if afraid that she might change her mind once she verbalized her concerns.  
"That won't be necessary since I have a very vivid imagination. Caterina, I promise, you won't regret it."

With a meaningful expression on his face, Henry escorted his wife through the corridors of the castle before opening one of the doors in the rear wing and leading Catherine into the room. This parlor was painted in bright yellow colors and three big windows suffused the room with daylight. An easel had already been set up in the center of the room, besides it numerous brushes in all possible sizes and a painter's palette.  
"The yellow drawing room? I thought you loathe that room."  
"I do, but Giuseppe insists on it, for he said the light is the most natural in here." His words prompted the Queen of France to drive around and stare at her husband interrogatory.  
"Giuseppe?" she asked in amazement, whereupon Henry nodded with a smug grin on his face. But before he could explain himself, the door opened again and Giuseppe Devita appeared in the room and rushed towards Catherine.  
"Cara! You cannot imagine how happy I am to have the pleasure of portraying you and your dear husband. But let me look at you first, my dear child. Oh, bellissimo, a vision of grace and beauty!"

Catherine's facial expression changed from amazement to joy.  
"Giuseppe, I can't believe it's you," she cried out and gleefully kissed her favourite Italian artist on his unshaved cheeks. "What brings you here? Who has..." Catherine stopped mid-sentence and looked over at her husband.  
"Henry! Have you invited Giuseppe?!"  
"Yes, I did and I commissioned portrait paintings of us and the children."  
Henry could not hide his pride of finally doing something right that withstood her exacting criteria. The joy on Catherine's face alone justified the enormous sums the painter would receive for his work.  
"This is..." she hesitated briefly, as if searching for a fitting word.  
"Fantastic?" Henry offered and winked at Catherine conspicuously.  
"Rather unexpected."

"Enough of words, we only have limited time before the sun sets. Come on over here, my dear. I see you... right here." Giuseppe reached for Catherine's hand and tugged her over to a magnificent sofa of finest brocade, he shoved in front of the window. With an erratic gesture he signaled her to take a seat. As soon as Catherine was sitting, he busied himself with artfully draping her voluminous skirts around her legs.  
"Now? Giuseppe, I am not even dressed for the occasion. This all comes very unexpected."  
"Nonsense, you look lovely. Now to you, Henry. I need you to stand here. Put your left foot on the stool."  
Henry approached the sofa, but instead of standing slightly behind his wife as he was told, he sat down on the sofa and reached for Catherine's hand.  
"I prefer sitting right next to Caterina."

Henry wanted to avoid this new work of art to resemble those of other ruling couples that mainly served to demonstrate their power and grandeur.  
For this particular portrait was to be different. For he was different.  
What he wanted was a painting that showed a husband who was devoted to his wife, a man who met his woman on equal footing and if Giuseppe was as good as his reputation, then the artist would be able to capture his feelings for Catherine on canvas.  
This painting was intended to be his public confession of love. At least that's what he hoped for.

"A portrait of the two of us"? Catherine questioningly looked back and forth between the men.  
"Yes, sweetheart. And he will also portray our children."  
"You could have warned me! Then I would have chosen a different robe. This dress..."  
"...looks wonderful on you. Red and gold. My favorite colors for you to wear."  
When Henry had first seen her in that dress made of rich crimson silk with golden and black adornments, he had been utterly delighted by her sight. He loved that dress since it had an exciting, almost daring cleavage and flattered her every curve.

It was a happy coincidence that Giuseppe had arrived on a day when Catherine looked as delicious as that. Henry had chosen a golden doublet with black and red embroidery for himself before he had hurried to the lady's parlor to fetch his wife. The garment perfectly harmonized with Catherine's dress.

"Nice, very nice," Giuseppe muttered while tugging at their clothes here and there until he nodded in satisfaction and went over to his canvas.  
"Turn your head another inch in Henry's direction, Cara. Oh, what a beautiful profile you have! What magnificent perfection!"

When the painter started with his first delineations, Henry gently stroked the back of Catherine's hand with his fingertips. At first, she didn't show any reaction to his caresses, but after a few minutes Henry spotted a telltale quirk at the corner of her mouth. Her reaction enticed him to go over to caressing her knee where both their hands were resting. With stoic calmness his wife let him do as he liked for a few minutes, then she stopped him by firmly putting her hand in his.

"Henry, you have to look at me. Stop turning your head", Giuseppe said.  
"Don't take it the wrong way, Giuseppe, but the sight of Caterina is much more charming than yours." Henry joked and prompted the artist to laugh out loud.  
"Yes, indeed, that's true!" He agreed with the King of France, who again caught himself staring at Catherine shortly thereafter. This time, Giuseppe reacted with clearing his throat in a slightly rebuked manner.  
"Henry," his wife warned him, whereupon he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. While doing so Henry thought he heard the painter murmuring something that sounded like: "They are worse than newlyweds".

Two hours and countless rebukes later, Giuseppe Devita gave up his attempt to draw Henry's attention to him and to his work. During that time Henry had not only touched and caressed every millimeter of Catherine's hand, he had also counted each freckle on her face and décolleté. By doing this he got lost in the depths of her soulful eyes several times. And with each passing minute Catherine seemed to become even more lovely to him. Had there ever been a more beautiful woman on the face of earth than the one who had been entrusted to him to become his wife?  
"Good gracious, you are so beautiful," Henry confessed out of the blue.

His confession prompted Catherine to turn her head sharply. There was this questioning, almost doubting expression on her face and it stung his heart that she still seemed to question his motives.  
"And you look like a pirate with your beard," she said after a moment's hesitation, deliberately ignoring his compliment. To his amazement, however, Catherine ceased to be Giuseppe's motionless muse but freed her hand from Henry's grasp in order to stroke his stubbly left cheek and the goat-beard he had recently grown.  
"But the handsome, daring kind of Viking pirate from the cold north, I hope." Henry replied and enjoyed the comforting sensation of her delicate fingers touching his cheek. "Do you like it? I want to look good for my shield maiden."  
"Cara, the light is already fading. If you would please adopt your previous position..." There was a slight hint of impatience in Giuseppe's voice, but Catherine didn't hurry to comply with his request. For she rather continued to caress Henry's cheek and the thoughtful, almost loving look she graced her husband with accelerated Henry's heartbeat.  
"It suits you," she finally said and a little smile appeared on her lips.  
"Caterina," Giuseppe cried out in despair, breaking the spell that had captivated the couple.

When Catherine finally lowered her hand, Henry thought he could literally feel iciness creeping through his veins at the loss of her warmth. He only felt relieved again when her small hand glided back into his.

For the next half hour the couple stoically endured sitting still while Giuseppe Devita continued to work on their portrait. Now and then the Italian let out a sound of entrancement. When the last daylight had faded away and only the light of countless candles illuminated their room, did the painter grant them a short break.  
Henry stretched his limbs that were stiff from all the sitting and poured himself and Catherine a cup of wine.  
"Do you know what I've been asking myself all the time?" His wife took her goblet and looked up at him thoughtfully before taking a tentative first sip.  
"What is it you're asking yourself, sweetheart?" Henry, who had already a pertly answers on the tip of his tongue, contented himself with a benign question.  
"Why a portrait? One of us together at that. You hate sitting still for hours and until now you've already taken flight before I could even utter the word 'portrait sitting'. Where does this change of heart come from?"

He had expected a question of that kind. For Catherine was right. Thus far he had avoided portrait sittings like the plaque and in the past he had ruthlessly fended off any attempt on her part to persuade him to sit for a painting featuring the two of them.  
"For one thing, it gives me the opportunity to spend some time with you." Upon hearing this, a soft sound of surprise escaped his wife's lips.  
"And on top at that I asked myself what I could do to please you. Please you with something that would make you happy. Something personal. You said it yourself. I have given you far too many expensive and meaningless gifts. That's why I wanted to do it right this time. I hope I succeeded."

"You did," Catherine replied and placed her goblet on the table beside her. Slowly and thoughtfully she stepped towards him and Henry once again got lost in the depth of her hazel eyes. When she was standing right in front of him, Catherine rose to her tiptoes and a split second later she gently pressed her warm lips against his. In a twinkling Henry closed his eyes and indulged himself into her gentle, almost timid kiss. In this special moment the world around him lost its meaning. He felt, breathed and lived only for this kiss. He tasted the slightly sour note of the wine on her lips, felt her heartbeat pounding against her rips just as wildly as his own.  
Henry pulled Catherine closer with his free arm. His other hand, that was still holding the goblet of wine, blindly searched for the tabletop to place his cup there. Then he put his hand at the back of her neck.

How long had he been waiting for this? For her to pull down her walls and to take the initiative. For her to give him a sign that would finally free him from this state of absolute helplessness. To let him know that nothing was lost yet, that his efforts weren't in vain.

"I am glad", he whispered hoarsely when she freed herself from him after what felt like an eternity.  
"Thank you", she replied with a gentle whisper and the glow of her eyes made his own eyes light up with joy.

Henry didn't know how to answer. He just knew that he was the person who should thank her. And he needed to apologize. But he hoped that the amends he had made over the last few weeks would finally repay for some of his mistakes of the past. Encouraged by her reaction, Henry wordlessly reached for her right hand and brought it to his lips. Then he tenderly kissed her fingertips.

"Let's get going!" Giuseppe Devita chose this moment to re-enter the yellow drawing room, an overzealous smile on his wrinkled face. Irritated by the sight he was greeted with, the Italian looked back and forth between the French monarchs but refrained from making any comment. Instead he busied himself with applying new paint on his palette. Only when he noticed that neither Henry nor Catherine made any effort to return to their previous position did he ask them to take up their seats again. In order not to unnecessarily prolong his ordeal, Henry let out a heavy sigh and led his wife over to the sofa. When they sat down this time, they were so close that his thighs touched hers. His hand sought hers at once.  
"Oh no, dear me," Giuseppe objected when he finally looked up from his colors and hurried over to them. With meticulous rigor, the Italian corrected first Catherine's posture, then Henry's. Only when he was fully satisfied with the result did he return to his easel.

The last hour of their portrait sitting took an eternity and felt like torture for Henry. He longed for the end of his ordeal and at the same time he feared that the magic of their previous kiss was forever lost. He repeatedly tried to catch Catherine's gaze, but as so often in the last few weeks he couldn't figure her out.

When Giuseppe finally announced the end of their session, Henry breathed out a sigh of relief. Murmuring quietly to himself, he stretched his stiff limbs while Catherine went over to the easel to look at the result. The absence of a reaction prompted him to look up in worry. He had expected a cry of delight or maybe a praise, but her silence and the strange, almost engrossed expression on her face put Henry on alert.

He cautiously approached the painting and stepped behind his wife to look at their portrait. What he saw left her speechless.

It was neither the painter's undeniable talent or skills, although he had captured both Catherine and Henry's countenance to perfection, nor the effect they had as a couple that astounded him. It was the look in Portrait-Henry's eyes that put his teeth on edge. For while portrait-Catherine's gaze was targeted into the distance with her head slightly bent, which allowed an observer to admire her flawless profile, Portrait-Henry looked at his wife with an intensity that transported his feelings from the canvas right to the viewer's attention. Feelings that went far beyond simple affection. What he saw in the eyes of his perfect copy was nothing less but true, unconditional love.

Love for the woman at his side. The woman he would promise the world if she would only let him.

Henry had a hard time swallowing the lump that seemed to be stuck in his throat. He had actually hoped that the fondness he felt for Catherine would be visible once she looked at the portrait, but he had not expected to witness his deepest, most intimate feelings – his very soul and inner life– being on display. Now he understood why his wife seemed shell-shocked. Even he was confused by what Giuseppe Devita had brought to light.

Feeling uncomfortable as well as embarrassed, Henry looked over at the artist, who hadn't either said a word about his work. The older man walked around his easel with a thoughtful expression, then he came to a halt right next to Henry.

"Sometimes you have to change your perspective to see the truth," he said wisely. After making a bow in their direction, Giuseppe Devita left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Dear readers,

during this crazy time, when the world and our lives seem to turn upside down, I tried to find the positive side in this craziness. We're emotionally moving closer by distancing ourselves. We learn how important it is to care for others and to care for ourselves. We find time to try new things and maybe we finally do the things at home we've already postponed several times. We come to appreciate the liberties we usually enjoy without thinking too much about them. This is the era of humility, solidarity and humanity. And don't get me started on our planet, that is in urgent need of some deceleration.  
I am lucky enough to have the possibility to work from home. I'm healthy and I try to be as positive as possible. Yes, I'm sad that all plans have been cancelled or postponed. My trip to London, our Reign convention, our social lives.

But there are still so many things that haven't been cancelled. Love hasn't been cancelled. Spending time with our families, reading, caring for each other, virtual hugs… and writing hasn't been cancelled.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it leaves a smile on your face. We for sure all need one.  
Stay home, stay safe and if you need a virtual hug or someone to talk to – feel free to contact me. Here or on Insta… (same username) I'd be happy to chat with you.

Chapter 13

When Catherine de Medici returned to her bedchamber, she felt a rather uncharacteristically sense of excitement welling up in the pit of her stomach.  
Not even the sight of her soundly asleep children had been able to calm her nerves, as her thoughts kept wandering back to the portrait sitting with her husband.  
Back to Henry and back to the kiss they had shared.  
It was impossible to put her thoughts into words. Not even in her wildest dreams had she expected a gift of this magnitude. Not from Henry. And apparently, he had not only confused her, but most of all her husband had confused himself.

Catherine would never forget the stunned expression on his face when he eyed the result of their sitting for the first time. Just thinking about it sparked maudlin emotions deep within her very soul. Sometimes she couldn't even believe how much her husband had changed over the last couple of months. Changed for the better.  
Nowadays he was incarnating the role of a loving, charming and playful husband who showered her with attention. And he was tenacious and persistent in his efforts to court her.

And as far as she could tell, Henry was living abstinent for a change. Not only did he throw Lady Kenna out from his chambers, Catherine knew from a reliable source that he had also written to Diane, forbidding her to return to court.  
In addition, she had learned from a member of her flying squad - whom she had instructed to tail him - that he did not entertain any sexual relations in the daytime.  
And his nights her husband still choose to spend in her bed.

Throughout all the days that had passed since their love making, Catherine had always wondered how much longer she could give Henry the runaround? How long was he able to restrain his impatience for her sake? How long would it take him - despite the promises he had made – before he went back to his old ways, succumbing his baser instincts?  
There had been nights when she had found it extremely difficult to resist his urgings and his congeniality. His flattering words, the touch of his hands and his smile had tempted her more than once. But she stood firm and did everything to keep Henry's fingers off her back and other parts of her body. Always fighting the fear of losing him in the end due to constantly refusing him.

But today's events had given her the answers to all her questions. Even to questions she had always been afraid to ask.  
Henry loved her. He was in love with her. She had seen it in his eyes. And in his effigy's eyes.

"Ah, there you are, darling!" The man she had been constantly thinking about greeted her and wrenched Catherine from her thoughts. Apparently, her husband had been waiting for her return.  
She nodded in greeting and tried to pass him but to her surprise he grabbed her arm and directed her towards the back corner of her chamber.  
"Please, take a seat. I took the liberty of serving you a special delicacy before bedtime." Henry pointed at the expansive sofa and solemnly presented her with a tray of éclairs that was decorated with fresh fruit. The sight of the sweet pastries made Catherine's mouth water.  
"Henry, this is..." While Catherine was still searching for a suitable word, one of the éclairs disappeared into her mouth. "…delicious," she completed her sentence once she was finished chewing.  
"I'm glad you like them. And I have something else for you. Hot chocolate. Dark, full-bodied and sweetened with whipped cream."

Carrying two cups, Henry sat down next to her on the sofa and handed Catherine one of them. The rich aroma of dark chocolate got right into her nose and brought a happy smile to her face. Catherine took a first reverent sip and closed her eyes in pure delight when the sweet and simultaneously bitter taste spread in her mouth.  
"Mmm, I love chocolate."  
"I know, my dear." The smile Henry threw her way radiated with warmth and affection which prompted Catherine to reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.  
"I'm touched by how hard you try to impress me."  
"Did I succeed?" Mischief was gleaming from his eyes.  
"I've kissed you today, didn't I?" Catherine took another sip and looked at her husband over the rim of the mug. Her words prompted Henry to reach for her other hand and bring it to his lips.

"Yes, you really did." Without warning, Henry dropped down next to her, bringing his head to rest on her lap. Then he looked up at her impishly. "And I'm asking myself if I can hope for another kiss."  
"Oh, you do? What makes you think I might kiss you again?" Catherine tried for a neutral tone, but she couldn't fight the little smile that crept up her lips.  
Henry had never openly flirted with her in the past, and his playful, unpredictable behavior released a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.  
"First of all, the fact that you love chocolate and pastries. So maybe you want to thank me in a special way..." His words caused her to put down her cup and exhale in feigned indignation. But before she could come up with a tart remark, Henry went on with his speech.  
"And secondly, I have greatest confidence in my dazzling looks. Not to forget my irresistible charm you can't possibly resist, my lovely wife."  
"Well thank you. During the past weeks, I've been doing quite well, husband."  
"Yes, but only until today," Henry corrected her, looking very self-satisfied. Then he raised his hand, put it onto her neck and gently pulled her upper body down towards his face.  
Only when his lips were nearly touching hers, did the pressure of his hand ease. At that moment Catherine understood that he was leaving the final decision to her. The decision if she wanted to kiss him or not.

Catherine waited for a split second, not sure whether she wanted to give in to his urging. But the sincere affection in Henry's dark eyes inexorably drew her under its spell. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and allowed her lips to find his.  
Their kiss was cautious - almost shy - and her husband responded with a tenderness she had never been subjected to before. His fingers buried themselves into her hair, tenderly stroking the nape of her neck.

Just when her bent-over position started to get uncomfortable, Henry released her. He raised from his lying position to look at her on equal footing.  
"Caterina, I..." Catherine placed her hand on Henry's chest to stop her husband from talking. She didn't want him to ruin this moment with words. Words she would vivisect, disassemble and analyze to death until nothing but misunderstandings and hurt feelings would be left. Instead, she grabbed Henry by his collar and pulled him towards her to silence him with another kiss. A kiss that was demanding and full of unspoken promises.

"Sweetheart," Henry whispered several minutes later against her swollen lips. Catherine shook her head in refusal.  
"Don't ruin it," she demanded and tenderly bit into his lower lip.  
"Far be it from me to ruin something so wonderful." Henry's words were nothing but a hoarse whisper while his hands started roaming. Catherine allowed her husband to fondle her body and shivered when his fingers brushed the top of her breasts. When sheer salaciousness finally overpowered her, the Queen of France let herself fall back onto the couch, grabbing Henry's lapel and pulling him with her. Her other hand slowly slid down his chest. From there it went lower until she caught hold of his crotch area.

"Then you'd better make sure I won't regret this."  
Catherine knew that she had appealed Henry by his honor. And by his balls.  
"You can trust me. You won't regret this even for a second." Not for the first time did her husband ask her to put her trust in him. And after today's revelation she was finally ready to trust Henry for the first time since a very long time.  
"Which has to be proven", she provoked him nonetheless.  
Catherine looked up at Henry from under her eyelashes, a challenging smile on her lips, prompting him to unwind her hand from his crotch and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

Then he grabbed Catherine, wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up without warning.  
"A challenge I gladly accept, my darling." With these words, Henry carried her over to her bed.

There he did not just drop her on the mattress but let her down with greatest care. With a promising sparkle in his eyes, he built himself up over her and bent down for another kiss. A kiss that was not only sweet but also demanding. It was tempestuous and tender at the same time and there was an intensity with it that prompted Catherine to close her eyes.  
Henry's lips against hers felt familiar, but in a new and exciting way also unusual, and when his body weight pressed her deeply into the mattress, Catherine started losing her mind by sheer desire.  
"Henry", she murmured breathlessly once her husband released her lips just to kiss his way down her jawline. Then his lips moved over to her neck and down towards her cleavage.

Catherine indulged inhis caresses and love bites for some minutes, but when her impatience gained the upper hand, she pushed Henry back and off her body. Before her perplexed husband could react, the Queen of France straightened up, grabbed the hemline of his jacket and pulled it off his shoulders with an impatient jerk. Without any significant resistance he watched her undressing him. Finally, Catherine's hands stroked his bare chest, feeling the texture of his skin and testing the strong muscles beneath. When her fingers pinched his right nipple playfully, a guttural sound escaped Henry's throat. But before Catherine could let her hands move on, her husband reduced the distance between them, grabbed her and let himself drop back onto the mattress, sweeping her along. Then his fingers caressed her cheeks while his lips showered her face with countless kisses.

She closed her eyes and gave in to her husband's caresses, feeling his lips on her face and his hands on her clothed body. After some time, his fingers tampered with the front lacing of her dress and his eager mouth closed around one of her nipples once Henry had freed her breasts. A deep moan escaped her throat. She tugged at her skirts and tried to lift them eagerly, but Henry stopped her by grabbing Catherine's hands and holding them over her head to immobilize her.  
"No need to hurry, sweetheart. We have all night," he whispered into her ear and kissed her tenderly, making Catherine surrender to his gentle dominance.

Helplessly caught in her sensual state, Catherine watched while Henry continued to undress first her and then himself. He took his sweet time with her, caressing every inch of skin he uncovered. Time and again his lips found hers, teasing and enticing her. But every time she tried to free her own hands in order to touch her husband, he gently yet resolutely stopped her. When a sound of frustration came over her lips, Henry stroked her cheek.  
"Let me take care of you, Caterina," he asked her and Catherine resigned to her fate since his lips were already dangerously close to the most intimate part of the body.

When she felt his hot breath on her pubic area, her thighs fell apart on their own accord while her fingers clenched the sheets in breathless anticipation.

"Dear Lord," Catherine gasped when Henry's tongue brushed over her mons and moved on towards the sensitive bud right beneath it with nerve-racking slowness. The sight of his head between her legs, combined with his readiness of tongue and the feelings he stirred made her body tremble with lust.  
"Mhm", he murmured and Catherine felt his voice vibrate against her heated skin while his tongue and fingers drove her ever closer to the edge.

Just when Catherine feared to burst from desire, her husband decided to release her from her sweet agony. Her lower body reared up in ecstasy, pressing herself against her husband while a burning sensation spread throughout her body, making all nerve endings vibrate with lust.

"I can't get over how beautiful you are." Having not yet returned down to earth, Henry's words sounded padded by a thick fog. She didn't even notice how he let go of her, nor that he let himself fall onto the mattress next to her and pulled her into his arms.  
Only when his lips found hers, did she slowly return to the here and now.  
His kiss was tender and very intimate and she could taste herself on his lips. A taste that was both unfamiliar and exciting.

Henry's hands, that were alternately stroking her back and waist, felt affectionate and loving on her heated skin. Catherine once again lost herself in their kiss, pressing herself willingly into Henry's arms and all of a sudden she felt the urgent need to crawl right into his skin.  
She was intoxicated by him. By his strong arms that were holding her so tightly, by his masculine, inimitable scent and his mere closeness.  
She could not remember ever having felt so close to him. Not even in the early years of their marriage. They had been very close on a physical level in their earlier years, but the emotional maturity they had now achieved had been missing at that time.

Henry - who was still kissing her - rolled them over on the mattress. They came to rest with him lying on his back and Catherine lying on top of him. Catherine, who immediately recognized his intention, straightened up. She smiled and looked down at her husband in expectation. With a youthful, mischievous grin on his face, Henry grasped her hips and determinedly pushed her down his body until she felt his erect member poking her entrance. For a few seconds she rubbed her pelvis against his penis, increasing their desires to the max without pursuing his intention. Only when a deep and desperate moan escaped her own lips did Catherine slowly sink down on him. Her eyes were firmly fixed on Henry, who looked up at her with a mixture of love and entrancement in his eyes. His hands were still clasping her hips. But instead of impatiently pushing her down, he let her set the pace and was content to just caress her skin.

When she had taken him fully in, Catherine bent down and kissed Henry. It was a deep kiss. Long and full of devotion. Only when they gasped for air did she straighten up and began to move. Slowly and sensually she circled her hips while Henry let his hands wander. Once he had reached her behind, his fingers instantaneously started kneading her buttocks.

Her old self might have been worried about what kind of image she had to present or how she got carried away, shamelessly flaunting her uncovered body. Completely naked with all its faults and imperfections. For not only her body but also her soul was naked. Naked and vulnerable.

But one look into Henry's dark eyes was enough to dispel all doubts and uncertainties. For Henry was as naked as she was. And the love that radiated from every pore of his body made her feel beautiful and like the most desirable woman on earth.  
A gentle smile suddenly fell on his lips, as if he had guessed her thoughts.

"Nightingale, sing a song of art  
for my noble queen!  
Tell her that my mind and heart are burning  
for her sweet body and for her love!"

"Carmina Burana," Catherine whispered, touched by his words, and bent over to kiss him again. This time, Henry's hands cupped her face and his fingers stroked her cheeks. When their lips disconnected this time, Catherine moved to a faster but equally sensual rhythm. Henry moved his hands to fondle her breasts while Catherine rode him with her eyes closed.  
They merged with each other and became one, united in body and soul.

When Henry's lust clouded his gaze and his breathing quickened, Catherine clenched her vaginal muscles, causing her husband to rear up beneath her. It only took a few violent thrusts, then she felt Henry explode deep inside her. He let out a deep and throaty groan while Catherine collapsed on top of him with trembling legs.  
"Dear me," her husband croaked and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Feeling cherished and exhausted from their lovemaking, she just lay there for some minutes, listening to Henry's heartbeat, which gradually slowed down to a normal pace. His fingers stroked her back and neck continuously, played with her hair or caressed her ass.  
"My lover", he whispered into her ear after what felt like an eternity and broke the silence.  
"My wife and my queen." Catherine raised her head to look at Henry.  
"Mother of my children, my better half," he enumerated while one of his hands grabbed the back of her head to pull her back towards his direction.  
"The woman I love with all my heart," her husband whispered against her lips before kissing her. "Please tell me you love me too," Henry asked.

Catherine hesitated for a second or two before she answered Henry's question. Not because she didn't know how to answer - the fact that she loved her husband had never been debatable. What she had to weigh up was whether she wanted him to know? And what exactly did this night mean to her? Could she write this encounter off as just another unpredictable fit of passion?  
For a declaration of love on her part would inevitably set their course for a new beginning. Another chance as a couple and another opportunity to end up with a broken heart.  
But the look in Henry's eyes was enough to erase her remaining doubts.  
"I still love you, against all reason," she replied truthfully.  
Her words were rewarded with another kiss.

"If this is going to work, there are some things that need to change, Henry."  
"Things will change, my love," Henry assured her, without asking what changes she had in mind.  
"You just agree with me? Don't you want to know my conditions first?"  
"No, because I already know. No more mistresses."

Catherine sat up and looked at Henry in all seriousness.  
"I don't just want you to give up your mistresses. If you want to be with me, you'll have to be with me exclusively. No mistresses, no whores, I won't tolerate even one other woman besides me, Henry."  
"You are the only one I want, Caterina. I have made so many mistakes in the past. Foolish mistakes. But I hope that these past few weeks have made you realize how important you are to me and how much I want this. How much I want you, just you!" Henry chose his words carefully and in his eyes she could see an unprecedent vulnerability that gave Catherine the strength to believe his words.  
"Fine Henry, I do agree. Let's try again."

Her relenting made the King of France shine all over his handsome face. Struck by euphoria he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. Before Catherine could try to free herself, his mouth closed over hers. Several minutes later lack of oxygen forced them to separate again.  
"You won't regret this, I promise!"  
"I sure hope so for your sake," Catherine said in all seriousness.  
"I see, still as ready to fight and stubborn as ever." Henry dropped down on the mattress besides her and the next moment he pulled her into his arms to kiss her forehead. "Some of the qualities I love most about you."

They lay like that for a long time. Enfolded in consensual silence, for no further words were needed. They only needed each other.

"The construction workers won't be thrilled when they learn that the plan needs to be changed once again," Henry whispered, when Catherine was already on the verge of falling asleep.  
"What are you talking about?" she asked sleepily. Henry's hand gently stroked her neck and she instinctively cuddled up into his arms.  
"About the construction plans for my chambers. We need more space now. Your wardrobe alone needs a separate room. Do you think we need two writing tables? I'm not sure about the bed. Mine is an heirloom from the Valois bloodline, but yours is much more comfortable."

"You want us to continue sharing a room?" Henry's considerations irritated Catherine.  
"Of course. Do you think I'd give up sharing a room with you now that I've finally got you back?" Her husband sounded outraged by the sheer notion of that.  
"Obviously not," she countered dryly, thus she gave in to her fate.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Pardon me, my love, I'm late. But don't worry, I'll be ready in a minute," Henry explained before head h even passed the threshold of her chambers. He closed the door and took off his right boot. "You should have seen young Henri and Charles. They were in their element. Henri is such a natural in the saddle. Like his parents."  
He struggled with his second boot, hopping on one leg and at the same time bumping against her desk with his shin.  
"Damn it!" When Catherine didn't respond, he let his eyes wander through the room in search of his wife. "Caterina?"  
Only now did he espy his spouse in the back of her chamber, where two women were busily plaiting tiny braids into her loose curls. Margot and Hercule were sitting at her feet, playing with little horses carved of beech wood. When he approached her, Catherine looked up at him.  
"There you are at last. I was beginning to wonder whether you were trying to dodge out of the ball." Despite her reproach, Catherine was smiling, prompting Henry to bent down and kiss her hello.  
"I wouldn't dream of missing this ball." He put his sweaty shirt over his head while talking to her and carelessly dropped it on the floor.

One of the maids hurried over to him and prepared a basin with fresh water. Meanwhile his valet brought his costume and neatly laid it on the bed while Henry washed the sweat and dust off his body.  
The anthracite trousers and the leather jacket had been designed and tailored especially for this occasion and were elaborately scrolled with Scandinavian symbols, while his heavy boots and the collar were decorated with fur. An axe completed his outfit.  
When Henry looked at his reflection in the mirror, he nodded at himself with a self-complacent smile on his face. The beard he had grown over the last few weeks gave his alter ego the expression of a temerarious Viking. On closer inspection, he discovered slight traces of dirt on his cheeks, a result of the short ride with his boys. Since he thought that a dirty face was quite fitting for a wild Viking warrior, Henry decided against wiping it off but rather rubbed the dirt all over his cheeks. Once he was satisfied with the way he looked, the King of France returned to where his wife was sitting.

The girls were finished with her styling at last. To his secret delight, Catherine was wearing her hair down. Her golden curls were now adorned with lots of small braids and a headband. This was an unusual, wild look for her, but Henry thought it suited her well.  
"By Odin, how beautiful you are," he whispered when Catherine raised, giving him the opportunity to let his gaze wander over her entire body. She was dressed in a brown, long-sleeved robe that hugged her every curve. Delicate glittering golden filaments graded up the fabric. Her neckline was low - almost daring - and adorned with golden embroidery. Around her waist, Catherine wore a brown leather belt that resembled the harness of a warrior.  
One of the servants hurried over with a light cloak of matching color that was covered with fur just like his own collar. Henry insisted on placing the cape on his wife's shoulders himself.

"Thank you. You also have dressed up quite nicely." With her right hand, Catherine tenderly stroked his cheek. Her touch made Henry shiver with thrill and excitement.  
"I have to look presentable next to my gorgeous shield maiden." With a mischievous grin, Henry bent down to steal another kiss.  
"You look more than presentable." Catherine assured him, and the loving smile on her face warmed Henry's heart.

Only when the governess entered the room did Henry release his wife for them to wish their children goodnight. These two were too small to attend the festivities and their nanny would put them to bed instead. Henry petted their little heads in an uncertain gesture. Although he was spending more and more time with his children as of late, he often enough felt awkward in their presence. Nevertheless, there was no question that he would continue his efforts to get to know his children. And with Catherine's help, he would succeed sooner or later.

"Are you ready?", he asked her as soon as they were alone and gallantly offered his right arm to his wife.  
"You mean, am I ready to present ourselves in public as a couple for the first time in ages?"  
Catherine's reaction surprised him. Normally she was a pro at hiding her true feelings from him and usually she was on guard to avoid giving him insight of what was really going on in her head. "Maybe I should ask you that question", she added after a short pause and looked up at him. There was a skeptical undertone in her voice while her eyes scanned him attentively.  
"There could be no better opportunity than this masked ball to show France how much I love you. Don't you ever doubt that, my love." Henry didn't want Catherine to think that he felt uncomfortable regarding their upcoming public appearance – not even for a second. Quite the opposite was the case. He wanted to commit to her before god and his people.

"This means you're going to ask me to dance?" A coquettish smile lay itself upon Catherine's lips.  
"As often and as long as you want," Henry announced generously, remembering the countless balls of their youth, where he and his newly wed wife had floated across the parquet floor until dawn. Drunk on wine and drunk on the beautiful creature in his arms, he had only stopped dancing when the first rays of sunshine had dazzled his tired eyes and reminded him that a new day had begun.

"And you feel, that you love, for you dance and you fly. For you laugh, for you cry, for you love," Henry whispered, lost in the thoughts of one of his sweetest memories.  
"And you dance, and you sing, and you kiss. Kiss me with closed eyes. Until dawn devours us both, devours us with our eyes closed," Catherine finished the verse.

"You still remember that poem?" Henry asked her in awe. For until that very moment, he seemed to have forgotten the words he had once written for Catherine. '  
"How could I ever forget it? You wrote this poem for me." Catherine gently ran her fingers down his arm. "I fell in love with you that moment," she admitted quietly. Her words made him pause to look at her.  
"Don't act surprised. I confessed my love to you that day," Catherine reminded him and Henry could do nothing but wordlessly stare at her.

She was right. Even back then, his wife had been much braver than him. And breathtakingly beautiful.  
"I know. It's just... we were so young, Caterina. So very young."  
"Yes, we were," Catherine agreed and raised her hand to stroke his cheek with her fingers. "And full of illusions. Full of hope."

Henry saw a sad smile flittering across her face. Thus he hurried to reach for her other hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the knuckle of each finger.  
"And then I screwed it up. But..." He stopped to make a meaningful pause. "...you gave me another chance. I won't screw it up this time, my love." With a valiant tug, he pulled Catherine into his arms and kissed her.

It was a long, an intimate kiss. That kind of kisses that only couples could share who had known each other forever. Who had experienced highs and lows in their relationship and whose love had not weakened but grown over the years. When Henry released Catherine again, his heart was racing and he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears.  
"I love you."  
"I love you, too. May god help us all," she admitted with a sigh, prompting Henry to chuckle.  
"Or Odin," he added mildly amused and reached for her once again. Hand in hand, they continued their way to the throne room.

A few minutes later the couple entered their festively decorated throne room. And even though their reconciliation and their latterly re-inflamed love had already provided impetus for discussion at court during the last couple of weeks, surprised whispers went through the rows of those present at their joint appearance nevertheless.  
Henry did not mind. Should they all act surprised and stare at them, for all he cared.  
And rightly so, after all, the most beautiful woman in the room was the one he was leading towards their thrones.

After his allocution, Henry kept his promise and opened the ball together with Catherine. And even though it's been a long time since they had danced together, his body still remembered what it felt like gliding across the ballroom with his wife in his arms. It took their bodies only a few tones before they became one on the dance floor, gently swaying to the soft melody the orchestra played. Henry looked neither to the right nor to the left, his entire attention was solely focused on his wife. On Catherine.  
Never before had he noticed how perfectly her small hands fitted into his, how perfectly her body nestled up against his. Or how perfectly and right his hand felt on her lower back while gently guiding her around other couples.

The glow in Catherine's eyes, the happy smile on her face and the way she blindly confided in his guidance sparked a feeling of euphoria in Henry.  
"I could go on dancing like this forever," he whispered into Catherine's ear and moved his arm for her to spin underneath. After another elegant turn, his wife returned into his arms and he felt her hand stroking his chest.  
"A very tempting idea, but I'm afraid I will be starving to death if I don't get something to eat - soon." Her reaction made Henry laugh out loud. It was just like his wife to disenchant one of the rare moments when he was showing his romantic side with a remark like that.  
"And we wouldn't want that," the King of France replied with a dry sense of humor, directing her towards the large table where a sumptuous buffet had been dished up.

While Catherine was loading her plate with all kinds of delicacies, Henry caught himself turning his whole attention upon his wife and not on the food in front of him.  
"I thought you don't like oysters," she asked in surprise, prompting him to check his own plate where he had indeed piled up several mussels.  
"You're right, I don't." With a disgusted look on his face, he tried to sweep the oysters off his plate, but Catherine beat him to it by moving them from his to her plate.  
"You're distracting me," Henry complained with feigned indignation.  
"Am I?" Catherine raised her right brow and looked at him with a knowing sparkle in her eyes.  
"Yes," Henry confirmed, feeling a broad grin spreading all over his face.

With their plates heavily loaded with finest delicacies, the couple took their seats in a quiet corner of the room. Henry called one of the servants over to pour them some wine while Catherine started devouring her food. There was no other woman on earth who enjoyed good food as much as Catherine. It was a real pleasure watching her celebrate each of her bites with relish, with closing her eyes in delight while putting a particularly delicate piece into her mouth. Especially when a blissful "Mhm" noise was coming over her lip.

"I thought you'd disinvited Kenna," she remarked after a while. Henry's eyes followed hers in shock and at the other end of the room, he indeed spotted his former mistress.  
"I did. In fact, I advised her to marry Lord Albert and leave French Court," he replied with an uneasy feeling. "I can send her away if you like." Catherine made a dismissive gesture and put a date wrapped in bacon into her mouth.  
"Don't bother, Henry. I don't care about that girl."

Despite or because of Catherine giving in so quickly, Henry scrutinized his wife, searching her face for a possible sign of infuriation. But Catherine looked relaxed and at ease.  
"You don't care about her?" he asked cautiously.  
"No, I don't. And you shouldn't care either."  
"I don't. I couldn't care less. I just don't want her presence to ruin our night." Henry frowned at his former mistress, hoping to persuade her to leave by staring at her in anger. But Kenna just threw back her long hair and demonstratively turned her back on him.  
"It's up to you, dear. Don't let her provoke you."  
Catherine was right. This selfish girl wasn't worth having their mood spoiled for. He should let her do whatever she wanted. For she was no longer his problem.

"Will you dance with me, Caterina?" Henry asked the only woman whose opinion really mattered to him and offered her his arm. Without hesitation, Catherine accepted his invitation and let him lead her back to the dance floor. Henry waved his lord stewart over and whispered something into his ear. A few seconds later, the sweet melody of one of her favorite songs filled the ballroom.  
"Pavane et gaillarde si je m'en vois. My dear husband, you're full of surprises today. "  
They had danced to this song at their wedding. And countless times thereafter. During the recent years, however, this particular song had only been played once or twice.

With a satisfied grin on his face, Henry took his wife's hand and pulled her closer.  
"I hope you like surprises. For there will be more to come – you'd better get used to it." To Catherine's amazement, Henry stole a kiss from her in plain sight, then he bowed and started to dance. Once again, the couple melded in perfect harmony, inevitably attracting the attention of everyone present.  
But neither Henry nor Catherine cared about that, for they only had eyes for each other.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're done – I actually can't believe it. Many thanks for reading and thanks for the countless reviews you have written. I love and appreciate each one of them.
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this journey. I hope you liked this bumpy little ride.
> 
> Until next time, bye bye.  
> Take care and stay safe wherever you are.


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